


Son of Mine

by Cyblade_Silver (Troper_Nyaru), Troper_Nyaru



Series: Son of Mine [1]
Category: Guyver
Genre: Action, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Ambigous Ending, Background Slash, Bad Ending, Bittersweet, Body Horror, Drama, Extraterestrial Science, F/M, Family Drama, Fanon, Gen, Introspection, Japan, Liberal use of OCs, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, OCs central to plot, Psychological, Sci-Fi, Transformation Trauma, Transhumanity, shonen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-16
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-08 23:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 85
Words: 102,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troper_Nyaru/pseuds/Cyblade_Silver, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troper_Nyaru/pseuds/Troper_Nyaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masaki Murakami has been keeping a secret from the rest of the group. That secret is about to come out. Meanwhile, Sho and the others have to deal with an overambitious Zoalord, the ruler of Chronos itself, and the trials of living on the run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Family

****

_Disclaimer:_ _ Guyver, and all things associated with  
such, do not belong to me. Though I would be very happy if I owned Aptom and  
Masaki, and probably Commander Guyot as well ;). Guyver and all things therein  
belong to the genius Yoshiki Takaya, the fine people at Shonen Captain, and  
another company who I'm not going to mention by name because they're a bunch of  
bastards. Kenji, however, is entirely my creation. This story  
uses elements from the Manga, the Anime, and some of my own ideas. Enjoy!_

** **

Son of Mine

Masaki Murakami – rebel Proto-Zoalord, investigative reporter, and  
all-around thorn in the side of the Chronos Corporation – looked around for  
the small, well-camouflaged tent that he had set up sometime earlier. Hidden  
inside that flimsy-looking little scrap of canvas was his one and only weakness:  
his six-year-old son Kenji Murakami. Kenji's mother, Masaki's wife, had been  
killed in the firebombing of the Murakami household just after Chronos had made  
him into a Proto-Zoalord and he had gone on the run.

__

If those bastards at Chronos ever found out that I still had any living  
relatives… Masaki didn't finish that thought. He did _not_ want to  
think about what Chronos would do if they ever found out about Kenji; his prior  
experiences with them were enough to convince Masaki that he needed to take  
precautions. A lot of them.

If anything the disaster in the forest, when the Guyver I – Sho Fukamachi  
– had been forced to kill his own father in order to prevent the elder  
Fukamachi from killing him, had driven home the fact that Kenji would never be  
safe if Chronos found out about him.

So he took Kenji with him wherever he went, hiding his son in any  
out-of-the-way place that could be found. When Masaki went in to the city, Kenji  
was always hidden in his car, since Masaki rarely stayed in one place for very  
long. But now, now that he had met up with the Guyvers and could count on their  
help and protection, maybe it was time to introduce Kenji to them. Kenji had  
never mentioned it, but Masaki could see in his son's eyes how lonely the boy  
was becoming.

__

I know why that is, of course, Masaki sighed, remembering again just how  
this entire mess had come about.

The house had been burning, and Masaki had been forced to transform into his  
Proto-Zoalord form to survive the heat and flames as he searched for the only  
two people who had mattered to him in those desperate moments. He had found  
Kenji, huddled on his bed. Kenji had been unconscious, either from the heat or  
from sheer terror, and at the time Masaki had been thankful for that. He had  
still been in his strange and utterly inhuman Proto-Zoalord form, and he hadn't  
wanted to find out how Kenji would have reacted to his appearance.

Masaki had picked his son up in the gentlest manner possible, not wanting to  
jostle the boy and risk having him awaken. Getting out of the house had proved  
to be harder than getting in, though, and in the end Masaki had been forced to  
blast his way out. To this day, he still had no idea how Kenji had managed to  
sleep through the noise of the blast and the falling wood, plaster and metal.

Finally coming up to the tent where his son was hidden, Masaki ducked through  
the thick bushes that further obscured Kenji's hiding place from anyone who  
might take the time to look for it. Before even setting off on his search,  
Masaki had taken great pains to ensure that no one was following him. And, even  
after all of that, Masaki had _still_ taken an elaborate, extremely  
circuitous route to get to the tent.

Some people might call it paranoia, but some people had never been forced to  
deal with Chronos. Unzipping the front of the tent, Masaki spoke softly into the  
quiet of the forest.

"Kenji? Kenji, hey, are you awake yet?"

Kenji's head poked out of the open tent flap.

"Dad? Dad!" the younger Murakami smiled up at his dad, happy to see  
a familiar face after all the time he had spent alone. This camping stuff was  
fun, but Kenji _had_ been starting to miss his dad.

Masaki smiled back as his son, ruffling the floppy blue-black hair that Kenji  
had inherited from him. "I brought you some more food, in case you get  
hungry. But try not to eat it all at once."

Looking around at the few items that he had managed to scrounge for Kenji to  
amuse himself with, Masaki sighed. It had been relatively easy to buy things for  
his son when he had been out alone on the road, with no one to know that he hadn't  
actually been eating the food or reading the books that he was buying. And, even  
if they had wondered sometimes, no one had ever commented on it.

Ducking his way half into the smallish tent, Masaki felt his son snuggle into  
his arms. Wrapping Kenji in a long-overdue hug, Masaki felt once again that  
things were as right as they could be with his life. Even with Chronos and their  
seemingly endless army of Zoanoids after him, these stolen moments with his son  
let Masaki feel some semblance of calm. They also made him more determined than  
ever to bring Chronos down, to not have to hide his son and deny him all  
semblance of a normal life.

To not have to be afraid that someday, some Zoanoid would stumble on Kenji's  
tent. They, if they ever came, would have to wonder why he looked so much like a  
man who was known to be an enemy of Chronos. And they weren't above  
kidnapping, either. As he held Kenji tighter, Masaki prayed to any deity that  
was listening that something like that would never, ever happen.

But, even with all the risks he was taking every time he made this kind of  
trip, even with all the precautions he made himself take, Masaki still found  
that it was worth it just to see his son again. After a minute, Masaki pulled  
back. Cupping Kenji's chin, Masaki took a second to just look at his son. This  
was the kind of thing he fought for, lived for.

"I brought you some more water, too."

"Thanks, dad. I was starting to run out by now," Kenji smiled up at  
his father as he said this.

"How have you been doing lately?" Masaki asked, again feeling  
guilty for the fact that Kenji had to live like this. It was yet another reason  
that Chronos had to be destroyed.

"Good. Really good. I've been reading a lot like you said, but those  
history books you got me are kind of boring."

"Yes, I know." Like his son, Masaki had no great love for history.  
"But I want you to keep at them. How about your math work?"

"I've moved on to multiplication now," Kenji said, and looked  
proud of himself for his accomplishment.

"Great," Masaki smiled. "How's your English work  
coming?"

Kenji sighed, rolling his eyes. "I wish I didn't have to do it. Please  
dad, say I don't have to do it anymore? _Please_?"

Masaki chuckled, then tried to look stern. _Tried_, because his son was  
currently looking at him with the most comically exaggerated hopeful look the  
elder Murakami had seen yet. Masaki couldn't help himself, he started to laugh  
and after a few seconds or so, Kenji had joined him. It felt good, Masaki  
thought, he didn't laugh like this nearly enough. Of course, there just weren't  
a lot of things for him to laugh about normally.

Once the both of them had calmed down, though Kenji was still chuckling a  
bit, Masaki took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. The effect was  
somewhat spoiled by the fact that Kenji was once again giving him that same  
look. Masaki shook his head, biting back the urge to start laughing again.

"I'm sorry, Kenji-chan. You can give me that look all you want, but  
you'll still have to do your English work," Masaki grinned, mussing up  
Kenji's hair again.

Kenji pouted, and Masaki just gave his son a sidelong smile. Kenji was really  
cute when he was trying to get out of something, Masaki had to admit. "Now,  
are you going to tell me how far you've gotten, or am I going to have to quiz  
you on it?"

"No," Kenji made a face. "I'm doing pretty well on it, I  
just really, really hate it." Kenji pouted again.

Masaki sighed, then he chuckled softly. "Okay, okay, point taken. Now,  
how do you like the other books I got you?"

"I like those a lot," Kenji smiled. "But some of them are kind  
of hard to understand sometimes. I really like the sci-fi ones, it sounds so fun  
to live out on another planet, or to go flying off in a spaceship whenever you  
want to. I wish I could do that."

"Yeah, sometimes I wish I could, too," Masaki muttered. It _would_  
make things a lot simpler with his life, but he knew that he could never leave.  
Not until Chronos had been destroyed.

Another of Masaki's precautions was limiting the amount of time he spent  
with his son. It wasn't something he liked doing, but Masaki knew that it had  
to be done. He sighed, knowing that Kenji would protest again, and then he would  
have to explain himself to his son yet another time, and watch as Kenji's dark  
blue-green eyes clouded over with the sadness and dull acceptance that Masaki  
had come to hate so much.

He sighed. "Kenji, you do know I can't stay for very long,  
right?"

"Yeah dad, I know," Kenji said, lowering his head sadly. "But,  
you'll come back soon this time, right?"

Masaki had long ago made it his policy never to lie to his son. Lying never  
made anything better, and most times it just made things worse. It was better  
not to make promises than to break them. "You know I can't do that. I'm  
too well known to Chronos, and if they ever decided to follow me back  
here-"

"I know, I know," Kenji said, nodding sadly. "Chronos would  
take me away from you, and we'd never get to see each other again. I know all  
that, Dad,"

"Good. Then you know why I have to stay away," Masaki sighed,  
lowering his eyes. "I don't _want_ it to be like this Kenji, believe  
me I don't, but until the Chronos Corporation is completely destroyed, you're  
just going to have to stay out here."

"I will, I promise. I'll be strong for you, Dad."

"Be strong for yourself, Kenji," Masaki advised. "I'll be  
strong for myself, and I'll come back as soon as I can. I promise."

"All right, Dad. I hope I'll see you again soon," Kenji said,  
putting on a brave face for his father's sake, if not his own.

Masaki nodded, just once, before turning and crawling out of the small tent.  
This was always the hardest time of his trips to see his son: having to leave  
him behind and hope that whatever luck that had kept Chronos from finding him up  
till now would hold out for a little while longer. Zipping up the tent, Masaki  
turned and walked away. It was hard, and it was emotionally exhausting, but  
Masaki wasn't sure that there were any viable alternatives right now.

Walking with no real direction, except 'away from Kenji's tent', Masaki  
circled slowly and carefully back to the cabin where he, the Guyvers, Guyver I's  
friends, and Agito Makashima's civilian allies were staying for the moment.  
Masaki knew that a time would come when all of them would have to move on again,  
since Chronos was bound to figure out where their new base of operations was by  
the simple expedient of watching where they went when they left a battle.

When he was too far from the tent to feel safe about turning back, Masaki  
remembered that he had wanted to bring up the subject of taking Kenji with him,  
to possibly stay with the Guyvers and so be under their protection. Masaki  
sighed, there were times that he almost wished that he could mentally multitask  
as efficiently as a real Zoalord. Not many of them, but there _were_ times.

Not looking back, since he could always return to Kenji's tent later on,  
Masaki made his way to the temporary home of the few people who actively fought  
against the Chronos Corporation. Though, if he had known the character of the  
events that would transpire later this day, nothing would have kept him away  
from his son. Not even an army of Hyper Zoanoids.


	2. Suspicion

Sho Fukamachi was pacing, waiting for Masaki Murakami to return. Sho was  
worried. Ever since Chronos agents had kidnapped his father and reprocessed him  
into a deadly Enzyme Mark II, Sho had been terrified that something like that  
would happen again. And Mr. Murakami was already well known to the Chronos  
Corporation. If something had happened to him, Sho wasn't sure that he would  
ever be able to forgive himself.

He was the Guyver I, after all, he _should_ be able to protect the  
people that mattered to him. When Sho heard someone knocking at the door, he at  
first froze, thinking it was one of Chronos' many Zoanoids. When Tetsuro  
brushed past him, making for the door, Sho went after him. Preparing himself to  
call on the Guyver at the slightest hint of trouble, Sho followed Tetsuro to the  
door.

"Who's there?" Tetsuro called, having the feeling that a Zoanoid  
wouldn't have taken the time to knock.

"I'm here," answered a very familiar low, deep voice. The voice  
itself was tinged with mild, if good-humored, annoyance. "Will you let me  
in already, please?"

"Mr. Murakami!" Tetsuro exclaimed, opening the door for the older  
man. "Sorry, I didn't know who it was."

"It's all right, Tetsuro," Mr. Murakami said as he stepped into  
the cabin's living room. "You're just taking precautions."

"Murakami, I see you made it back again," Agito said, as he stood  
in the doorway leading to the cabin's other rooms.

"I did," Mr. Murakami acknowledged warily.

Ever since Mr. Murakami had found out that Agito Makashima was a son of  
Chronos, even having worked for them at one point, the older man had been a bit  
leery of Agito. And, after seeing the kind of power that Masaki Murakami  
possessed, Agito had also been more than a little cautious around the other man.  
Or, that was how it seemed to Sho anyway.

The by now familiar form of Mr. Murakami's Zoanoid Buster Custom was  
visible in the holster he had taken to wearing. Sho wasn't sure where Mr.  
Murakami kept disappearing to, but since all of them here were enemies of the  
Chronos Corporation, Sho decided to trust Mr. Murakami and respect the other man's  
privacy. Agito, however, wasn't so trusting.

"Where have you been disappearing to lately, Murakami?" Agito  
demanded calmly.

"Since when is that any business of yours, Makashima?" Mr. Murakami  
shot back, with no more real emotion in his voice than Agito.

"I _make_ it my business, Murakami," Agito said.

Mr. Murakami's eyes narrowed, not that anyone could see it as he was still  
wearing his dark-green sunglasses. "I may be working with you, Agito  
Makashima, but that does _not_ give you the right to pry into my private  
affairs."

"When your 'private affairs' run the risk of exposing our new base  
to Chronos, then I have every right to pry into them," Agito said, still  
with that infuriating calm.

"I was out on some errands, _excuse me_," Mr. Murakami  
snapped, turning and roughly bushing past Agito on his way out of the living  
room.

Agito grabbed Mr. Murakami's arm before the older man could get safely into  
another room. Mr. Murakami looked like he was considering throwing Agito into  
the wall. It was probably only the fact that Guyver III would have started a  
fight, a fight that would have most likely demolished the entire cabin, which  
enabled Mr. Murakami to keep his temper in check.

"Let go of me," Mr. Murakami demanded flatly, glaring at the boy  
from behind his sunglasses.

"Not until you tell me where you went," Agito reiterated.

"Lay off, Agito," Sho said, coming to stand between the two of  
them.

"Stay out of this, Fukamachi," Agito snapped.

Sho looked hurt for a moment, then remembered whom he was dealing with. Agito  
could be a bit harder on him than he liked, but Sho now knew that that was just  
how Agito was. Being raised by Chronos had left its mark.

"Just ease up on him," Sho said, laying his hand on Agito's  
shoulder, trying to calm Guyver III down.

Agito roughly shrugged off Sho's hand, ignoring Guyver I's attempts to  
reason with him. "I already told you to stay out of this, Fukamachi."

"You should listen to your friend, Makashima," Mr. Murakami  
growled, yanking his arm out of Agito's grip.

xXxXx

Ignoring the argument that was starting, Masaki walked down the hall till he  
was back at the room he had claimed for himself. The argument, if it could even  
be called that, would probably be over by the time he came back out. Sho was a  
nice enough person, but Makashima was a harsh, argumentative, demanding bastard.

The Bastard Son of Chronos, as Masaki had come to think of him. Not that he  
would ever tell Agito that he had a pet name for him. _Agito? Since when do I  
call the Dark Guyver, Mr. Bastard Son of Chronos, by his first name?_ Masaki  
wondered to himself. Then, deciding that that wasn't important, Masaki decided  
to go lay down. This day had been tiring enough without having to deal with  
Makashima when he was off on one of his 'security' tirades.

Yawning, Masaki dropped into bed, kicking off his shoes and pulling his feet  
up onto the bed with the rest of him. Setting his sunglasses down on the  
nightstand, Masaki blinked as his eyes quickly readjusted. Grabbing the pillow,  
Masaki shoved it into the space between his right arm and his head. As he was  
just settling down, Masaki heard a knock at his door. He debated whether or not  
to answer, but when the knocks were repeated much more forcefully, Masaki knew  
that he would have to do _something_.

"Whoever it is, go away!"

"Not going to happen, Murakami."

Masaki growled deep in his throat. It _would _be him. _The Bastard Son  
of Chronos coming to pay me a visit, how nice,_ Masaki thought, considering  
different ways of making Makashima go away. Finally realizing that nothing short  
of pounding Guyver III into the ground, which would cause all sorts of other  
problems, would get Makashima to leave him alone when the boy was in this kind  
of mood, Masaki gave in.

"All right, all right, I'm coming," Masaki growled, dragging  
himself out of bed and putting his sunglasses back on. Opening the door, Masaki  
was confronted with Makashima's annoying smirk.

"I knew you'd come to your senses sooner or later, Murakami,"  
Makashima said, with such infuriating smugness that Masaki was tempted to slam  
the door in his face.

Crossing his arms and radiating belligerence instead, Masaki responded.  
"What do you _want_, Makashima?"

"You never told me where you went earlier."

"And I'm not going to," Masaki growled. "So why don't you  
just drop it and go away? Oh wait, I forgot that you're _completely_  
incapable of respecting another person's privacy when it interferes with your  
having control of everything," Masaki spat with bitter sarcasm.

"Rest assured, Murakami, I _will_ find out what you've been up to  
lately. And if it's anything that would compromise our activities against  
Chronos, there _will_ be repercussions."

The other boy actually seemed angry, it was the first real emotion that  
Makashima had shown in the entire day. At least as far as Masaki knew or could  
be convinced to care. Even during his confrontation with Sho, Makashima had  
still maintained his usual bored/half-amused demeanor.

Masaki glared at the Dark Guyver. "Look Makashima, I hate Chronos just  
as much as you and Sho do. Probably even more. I would _never_ do anything  
that would help those heartless, evil bastards."

Masaki, having said his piece, waited to see how Makashima would react.  
Makashima actually seemed to be thinking about Masaki's statement, rather than  
starting in on another one of his infamous lectures about their need for  
secrecy. Finally, without saying another word, Makashima nodded to him, turned,  
and walked away.

Masaki was, in a word, shocked to see Makashima walking away so soon. From  
what Masaki knew of Makashima's personality, Makashima wasn't one to give up  
on something he wanted without much more of a fight than he had put up here.  
Masaki distrusted this sudden reversal on Makashima's part, and for a moment  
he thought about confronting the boy. Then, deciding that he wasn't in the  
mood to have another argument or to listen to one of Makashima's tirades,  
Masaki decided to forget the whole thing.

Taking off his jacket, Masaki tossed it on the floor by the bed. His  
sunglasses were the next thing to go; Masaki put them back in their place on  
"his" nightstand. Flopping back into the bed, Masaki hoped that he  
wouldn't be disturbed until he had had at least an hour and a half of sleep.

xXxXx

Agito trailed his hand along the wall as he made his way back to the room he  
was staying in. _Maybe I should have handled that differently,_ he mused.  
That was one of the drawbacks of adopting a different persona for so long: it  
became harder and harder to act like the person who had taken on the persona  
rather than the persona itself.

Weaknesses – kindness, compassion, generosity and any other thing that  
would not further their goal of world domination - were not permitted in  
Chronos, and so they had not been permitted in the Makashima household either.  
And Agito had had to learn very quickly to act like the kind of "son"  
Genzo Makashima had wanted him to be.

Agito remembered that once, a long time ago, he had been a lot like Sho  
Fukamachi. Kind, openhearted, compassionate. But once Genzo Makashima had  
murdered his parents and taken him in, his own survival had dictated that he  
kill off those parts of himself that felt those things. The parts that had  
considered the feelings of others worthwhile.

Compassion, Agito recalled, had been the first thing to go. After all, a  
"son of Chronos" couldn't be feeling pity for people that were  
either going to be Zoaformed or executed. _Son of Chronos, I guess I won't  
ever really be able to escape that._ Even now, Agito could still hear Genzo's  
voice in his head at times. It wasn't a sign of psychosis, Agito was sure,  
just a memory that refused to leave him alone.

__

"You are a son of Chronos, and it's time you started acting like  
one!" Those words, in Genzo Makashima's not-so-dulcet tones, would  
continually play in his head whenever the part of Agito's personality that had  
been influenced by Genzo Makashima thought that he was acting too much like a  
real person. It was part of the reason that he still only referred to Sho by his  
last name: to keep at least some distance between them.

Finally arriving at the room that he had temporarily made his own, Agito  
pushed open the door and closed it behind himself. Leaning his back against it,  
Agito let himself succumb to a rare moment of weakness. It was hard, always  
having to be the strong one when things went wrong, but it was a role Agito had  
long ago become accustomed to. Perhaps, given enough time, he would be  
comfortable enough with the others to let them see this side of him.

But not now, not when there were so many things were at stake. Not when the  
Chronos Corporation was hounding them at practically every turn. Agito knew that  
he still had to be the strong one, holding together their pitifully small band  
of anti-Chronos rebels. Just then, Agito heard someone knocking at his door.


	3. Life

"Agito!" It was Sho.

"Can I help you with something, Fukamachi?" Agito asked in his  
usual unemotional tone.

"Mizuki and Shizu are just about to finish getting lunch ready,"  
Sho said, obviously happy at the prospect of having something to eat.

For that matter, Agito had just noticed that he was hungry himself. "I'll  
be out there in a minute, Fukamachi."

"I can wait," Sho said brightly.

Agito shook his head, still thrown off at times by the way that Sho would  
sometimes act like the little brother Agito had never had. It could be  
endearing, or it could be annoying, but right now it was the former. Laughing  
quietly, Agito opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

"All right, Fukamachi, I can see how eager you are." Agito put a  
hand on Sho's shoulder and proceeded to steer him toward the large  
kitchen/dining room. "Let's go eat."

As they walked, Agito wondered again just what the 'errands' that  
Murakami had alluded to actually were. It was true that the man had proven time  
and time again that he was an enemy of Chronos, and therefore could be trusted  
at least that far. And it was also true that when he had worked for Chronos  
Agito had indeed heard the name Masaki Murakami, mostly in the company of  
several vile curses and unflattering epithets.

Murakami had been enough of an annoyance to Chronos that they were willing to  
risk sending heavily destructive teams of Zoanoids into densely populated areas.  
They hadn't been at all concerned about the fact that they would potentially  
be killing tens, if not hundreds of innocent people, of course. The only thing  
that had made them put a temporary hold on their plans was the thought of their  
losing so many potential Zoanoids.

He hadn't been the one to raise that particular objection, and after seeing  
what had been done to the person who had… Agito shuddered.

"Is something wrong, Agito?" Sho turned a worried look on him.

"It's nothing I can't handle, Fukamachi," he said. _But,  
thank you for your concern, Sho._

"Oh," Sho seemed to be disappointed by his answer.

Agito sighed, but kept walking in silence. As soon as they had reached the  
kitchen, Agito noticed that Masaki Murakami was already sitting down at the  
table, drinking a glass of something that Agito couldn't make out. Sho took  
the place next to Mizuki, just like Agito knew he was going to. Agito himself  
took the seat beside Shizu.

"Murakami," looking over at the older man, Agito considered what he  
was going to say. _I'm sorry I was such a jerk earlier. You're right, I  
had no reason to pry into your private affairs. I still don't._ "You're  
looking better." _I trust you, Masaki Murakami. You've been an enemy of  
the Chronos Corporation for at least as long as I have. I don't know what _you've_  
lost to them, but I do know at least some of your reasons for fighting._

Nothing. Murakami didn't even look over at him.

xXxXx

When Masaki heard the deep voice of Guyver III, he at first thought that  
Makashima was going to apologize for being so forward, and so he turned slightly  
to let Makashima know he was listening. When he finally did hear what Makashima  
had to say, Masaki had to bite back the angry words that he so badly wanted to  
say in response.

Turning away, and resolving to ignore Makashima for at least the remainder of  
the day, Masaki started to eat again. There was a pleasant buzz of casual  
conversation around the table, and Masaki listened without participating. He  
toned down his enhanced hearing just enough that he wouldn't be so easily able  
to pick out individual words, and just listened to the many overlapping voices.

Sho and Mizuki were talking about something or other, Masaki wasn't paying  
enough attention to their conversation to find out what; Tetsuro had  
complemented Shizu's cooking, and then had thanked Mizuki as well when there  
had been a break in conversation between her and Sho; even Makashima was  
talking, though not as much as any of the others.

Masaki added his own compliments to Shizu and to Mizuki, and then fell silent  
for the remainder of the meal. Once lunch was finished and all of them had  
started going their own separate ways, Masaki went out to the main room of the  
cabin, where some couches and other furniture had been set up to make this  
temporary base of operations seem more like a home.

Masaki thought that the attempt would have worked a great deal better if they  
hadn't all been so conscious of the fact that this place was _anything_  
but home, for any of them. Walking up to the windows that had been kept covered,  
for fear of alerting any patrolling Zoanoids that there were people in this  
place, Masaki pulled up a corner of the curtain and looked out at the darkening  
sky. There was going to be a storm soon, Masaki was sure of that, but for now  
all that had happened was that the sky had become overcast.

Back when their family had lived in a real house, and before Masaki had even  
heard of the Chronos Corporation, Kenji had liked to go out in weather like  
this. There had even been some times when Masaki had let his son do just that,  
if only for a few minutes. Miaka, Masaki's beloved wife, had always seemed to  
grudgingly tolerate these excursions. But she had made it very clear that the  
time Kenji spent in the rain had to be short, or he would have her to deal with._  
I hope Kenji's all right, being out in this._ But it was just a light  
drizzle, not even worth being called rain at this point.

Masaki chuckled, remembering how he had mostly went out of his way to avoid  
getting Miaka angry. She had had a formidable temper, and Masaki used to pity  
anyone stupid enough to arouse Miaka's fury. _I miss her…_ Masaki  
thought, as he looked out at the thin mist of falling water.

It was now more important that ever that he find someone to take care of  
Kenji, since the doctors' last projection had given him only a year and a half  
to live. He would, if he was both careful and extremely lucky, get to celebrate  
Kenji's seventh birthday with him, but nothing after that. _Damn Guyot for  
his sadistic tendencies anyway. And damn Balkus for doing this to me in the  
first place. Damn them both to the depths of Hell!_

Alone in the main room, with no one to see him in this moment of weakness,  
Masaki felt a single tear trail down his left cheek.

xXxXx

The first thing Kenji noticed when he woke up was that it was colder, that  
was the first thing. The second was that the wind had picked up, Kenji could  
hear it howling outside his tent. He could also see the sturdy cloth walls  
rippling slightly as the wind hit them. Pulling on the long, heavy raincoat his  
dad had given him, Kenji unzipped the front of his tent and pulled back the flap  
just enough to expose one lone blue-green eye to the outside world. He saw,  
through the gaps in the trees, the thick clouds that were blocking out the sky.

Kenji also saw the thin mist of water that was falling from the sky itself,  
it was not much more than morning dew at this point. _Dad said I shouldn't  
ever go out of here unless it was absolutely necessary. But…_ Kenji pulled  
back the flap further, letting both eyes see out of his small shelter. _I'm  
sure nothing bad's going to happen, as long as I don't stay out there for  
too long._ His mind made up, Kenji zipped up his coat and stepped out into  
the light shower.

Looking up again, Kenji blinked as the miniscule droplets of water fell into  
his eyes. Walking out into the forest, Kenji smiled. Then he laughed, softly and  
quietly, and started to sprint. Kenji knew that not many people liked to be  
outside in this kind of weather, but then Kenji knew that he wasn't really  
what could be called 'most people'.

Kenji giggled; most people didn't live out in tents in the woods, and most  
people weren't on the run from an evil corporation that had for some reason  
decided to name themselves after a moldy old Greek god. _Most people also  
probably get to see their dads once a day instead of every other month,_  
Kenji sighed, his good mood effectively gone. _He always says it's for my  
own good, for my own safety, but…_

Looking back up into the sky, Kenji sighed again. Then, just as Kenji would  
have turned his gaze back to the ground and walked back to the tent, a  
brilliantly white bolt of lightning arced across the sky. Looking up and  
counting the seconds, Kenji heard the loud crash of the thunder a full five  
seconds later. Then it started to _really_ rain. Kenji wasn't too  
concerned about the storm, after all he had been taught by his dad how to tell  
just how close or far away a storm was. This one was five whole miles away!

Another bolt of lightning lit the sky, and the thunderclap that came five  
seconds later drowned out Kenji's laughter. Looking back the way he came,  
Kenji decided not to go back to his tent, and as another flash of lightning  
split the sky Kenji took off at a run. He was going to race the lightning, or  
try to anyway. The loud boom of thunder that came after the usual five-second  
delay was only cause for more laughter.

Kenji had been out in worse storms than this. Some of the storms were indeed  
bad enough that Kenji wished that he was with his dad, inside a real house  
rather than out alone in what felt like nothing more than a flimsy scrap of  
fabric. But this storm was nothing like those others; where the rain would come  
pounding down, and Kenji would spread out all the books his dad had given him  
and lie down on the ground to try and keep the small tent from being torn down  
or blown over by the winds.

The winds in this storm were gentle in comparison to some of the others that  
Kenji had experienced over the years. Laughing as more lightning flashed  
overhead, Kenji ran right past a thick clump of trees without even looking over  
at them.

xXxXx

Inside this particular clump of trees, though, stood one of the worst possible  
people to be a witness to Kenji's flight: a Chronos Combatant. This particular  
Chronos Combatant was a standard Ramochis model Zoanoid. Watching as the  
strange, laughing boy ran past his position, Ramochis wondered what he should  
do. The kid couldn't have been any more than six or seven years old, and there  
was a strange familiarity to his features.

__

That kid's too young to be out here all by himself, so the parents have got  
to be out here somewhere, too. And if they found out anything about what Chronos  
is doing here... Ramochis had been stationed out in this remote part of the  
forest surrounding Mt. Minakami to watch for any signs of the Guyvers and their  
allies, but also to make sure that no civilians found out about the operations  
that were being conducted under Mt. Minakami.

Checking in with Dr. Balkus, Ramochis received orders to watch the kid, see  
if he met up with anyone, and to report back to Chronos with what he found.  
Moving off into the wet late afternoon, Ramochis took extra care to make sure  
that his footfalls were as silent as was possible for someone of his size.  
Though, given how much noise the kid was making on his own, Ramochis had the  
feeling that he could have run after the kid without being noticed.

__

It's more than a little careless of him, but then he's only a little kid,  
Ramochis thought with a predatory grin. The kid was far younger even than Guyver  
I, and everyone knew that Sho Fukamachi was soft. _Yeah, soft in the head,_  
Ramochis laughed to himself. Recovering from his momentary lapse of  
concentration, Ramochis closed some of the distance between himself and the kid  
he had been sent after.

Ramochis couldn't help but think the kid wasn't thinking all that  
straight, what with the way he was laughing, _laughing_ as he ran through  
the heavy rain. Finally though, the kid seemed to get tired of his little game,  
or maybe he had just gotten cold. In either case, the kid stopped running and  
calmly walking in the opposite direction. Ramochis followed him as closely as he  
could without the kid being able to notice him.

The ran was falling a little harder now, and Ramochis sensed more than saw  
another bolt of lightning tearing through the sky. Then Ramochis noticed that  
the thunder that always came after the lightning struck didn't seem to scare  
the kid at all. Ramochis thought that was kind of strange, but maybe the kid had  
just gotten used to it. Once the kid reached a towering tree with huge, thickly  
leafed branches, he stopped entirely.

There was a large pair of bushes that were mostly hiding the kid from sight,  
but Ramochis could still make out the kid's head and a bit of his neck. Moving  
closer, but still keeping out of the kid's line of sight, Ramochis heard an  
odd sound. Realizing that this was just the sound a zipper made when it was  
being opened or closed, Ramochis dared to venture closer.


	4. Rain

Ramochis knew that he would have a hell of a time explaining it to Dr. Balkus  
and Commander Guyot if he was spotted by some kid, so he made sure to be  
absolutely silent as he made his way through the wet forest. In some ways,  
Ramochis was glad to have the cover that the rain provided for him. Peeking over  
the tops of the bushes that stood in his way, Ramochis finally caught sight of  
the thing that had made the zipping noise.

It was a small tent, only big enough to hold one person, and the way it had  
been carefully and artfully concealed led Ramochis to suspect that the kid  
really _was_ the only one inside it. _Who would leave a kid that young  
out in the woods like this?_

__

-Who indeed?-

Ack! Dr. Balkus, I didn't know you were still watching.

_-I concealed my presence rather well, then. I have been observing though you  
ever since you found the boy. I must say that the child seems remarkably well  
adjusted for someone who is so alone.-_

Yeah, he does. Ramochis continued watching the tent, waiting to see if  
the kid would come out again. And also waiting for any more orders from Balkus. _Dr.  
Balkus, doesn't this kid look a little familiar to you? Or am I just seeing  
things?_

__

-Yes, now that you mention it, the child does rather resemble someone…-

Balkus' telepathic voice faded out again, and Ramochis wondered what the  
doctor would want him to do. A second later, Ramochis got his answer:

__

-It's not enough of a concern to have you stay out here. Come back to  
Relics Point. I will give you further instructions when you arrive.-

Ramochis nodded, in spite of the rather obvious fact that Dr. Balkus was  
unable to see him at the moment. Knowing that the rain would probably keep the  
kid from going outside again, or at the very least keep him from straying too  
far from the shelter of his tent. Still crouching to lessen the chances of being  
spotted if the kid looked outside for some reason, Ramochis moved away from that  
particular tree and back out into the forest.

Standing up once he was far enough away, Ramochis turned and walked in the  
direction of Mt. Minakami. It was hard not to wonder where the kid had come  
from, not to mention who he was. But those kinds of thoughts could wait until  
some other time. Right now, Ramochis had no choice but to report back to Mt.  
Minakami for further orders from Dr. Balkus.

xXxXx

Kenji was just starting to doze, when a sharp crack of thunder startled him  
back into full awareness.

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled to the storm at large.

Times like this, Kenji really wished that he had a second pillow, so he could  
block out at least _some_ of the noise that storms made. The only thing he  
could really do in this situation, the only thing that would have any real  
effect on the loud noise of the thunder, was to take the heavy raincoat his dad  
had given him and pull it up over his head. And, sitting up, Kenji did just  
that.

Thick as the coat was, even it didn't block out all of the noise. Kenji  
huffed, annoyed, he could sleep though a lot of things but even _he_ had to  
able to relax first. Turning over on his left side, Kenji arranged the coat on  
top of himself, closed his eyes, and made a concerted effort to ignore the loud  
blasts of thunder.

Eventually, he was successful.

xXxXx

Back in the cabin, behind the thick beams of wood that insulated those inside  
from the storm, Masaki Murakami sat up in his bed and listened to the raging  
tempest. He wondered how his son was doing. Kenji was a resilient person, to be  
sure; a lifetime on the run giving him access to reserves of strength that most  
people never tapped in all their lives.

But Masaki knew that his son was still young, and very lonely at times like  
this. So Masaki decided to break one of his rules, just this once: he would go  
and visit Kenji early tomorrow. Normally, Masaki tried not to go off to see his  
son more than once a month, to keep anyone that might be tailing him from  
finding out that he still had a family.

Any connections that he seemed to have could be easily used against him by  
Chronos, Masaki knew this with the utmost certainty. So his decision to go and  
look in on Kenji wasn't one that Masaki had made lightly. The mental welfare  
of his son had had to be weighed against his ultimate physical safety. And in  
the end, Kenji's mental state had won out by only a very narrow margin.

As Masaki lay back down, he hoped that this visit wouldn't somehow cause  
more problems for Kenji than it solved.

xXxXx

Back inside Mt. Minakami at last, Ramochis headed into one of the elevators  
that would take him down into Relics Point. He passed a great many Zoanoid  
processing-tanks on his way. Most of them were holding half finished Zoanoids,  
some contained humans who were only just starting to show signs of becoming  
Zoanoids, and a few even held Zoanoids who looked as if they were just about  
ready to be released.

If he had cared, Ramochis might have taken the time to wonder how many of  
those in the processing-tanks were Sleeper units; those people who had been  
kidnapped and processed into Zoanoids absent their consciousness or consent.  
Ramochis himself couldn't remember if he had volunteered to become a Zoanoid  
or not, but thoughts like that weren't really important to his line or work.

Hitting the button that would take him down into Relics Point, Ramochis  
watched the elevator door close. He had decided to take one of the express  
elevators and avoid the hassle of other Chronos Combatants, scientists, and  
other people getting on and off whenever they had the slightest inclination to  
do so. The checkpoints were more stringent for the express elevators, true, but  
Ramochis felt that that was a small price to pay for efficiency.

Stepping off at the uppermost level of Relics Point, Ramochis left the  
elevator and started looking for Dr. Balkus. Receiving a telepathic command,  
Ramochis followed it to where Balkus evidently wanted him to go. Just as  
Ramochis was beginning to suspect he would be, Dr. Balkus was indeed sitting in  
front of the large computer terminals that were usually used to monitor the  
state of the Relic.

There was a small device sitting on the computer console in front of him, and  
for a minute Ramochis wondered just what it was. And what Dr. Balkus could be  
planning to do with it.

"Ah, Ramochis. I'm glad to see you came promptly."

"As ordered, Dr. Balkus," Ramochis said.

Balkus gestured to the device sitting on the console. "Take this camera  
and plant it close enough to the boy's tent to see what he does and if anyone  
contacts him. Make sure that the child will not be able to see it, or to find it  
by accident. You are dismissed."

"Yes, Dr. Balkus. I'll make sure the camera gets planted as per your  
instructions." Ramochis bowed, took the camera from its resting-place on  
the console, turned away from Balkus and started to make his way out of Relics  
Point.

Balkus, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair and started programming the  
computer to monitor the feed from the camera and save it into a file that he  
would be able to open at his convenience. For a moment, Dr. Balkus considered  
whether or not to password-protect the file where the video was going to be  
stored in.

Then he decided that, while the question of the child's identity _was_  
an interesting diversion, there was no real reason to go to so much trouble to  
cover up something that was essentially a curiosity. As he finished setting up  
the computer to monitor the feed from the camera, Balkus sent one last wisp of  
his own consciousness out to Ramochis in order to monitor the Zoanoid's  
progress.

Ramochis, it seemed, was already back out in the forest and heading for the  
as-yet-unknown boy's hiding place. Balkus nodded to himself, pleased to see  
that he wouldn't need to use any of the other methods of persuasion that were  
open to him. Taking over the minds of Zoanoids had become quite tiresome over  
the years, and now Balkus tried only to do such things when necessity commanded  
them.

__

It will be interesting to see what information  
this investigation turns up, Balkus  
thought to himself. But it was a diversion and nothing more. So Balkus wasn't  
all that concerned about maintaining secrecy for this particular project.

xXxXx

Out in the forest, blissfully unaware of the  
events taking place all around him, events that would change his life forever,  
Kenji Murakami slept on.


	5. Visit

Early the next day, when even the air smelled cleaner after the storm that  
had passed, Kenji Murakami woke up and stretched. Even after three and a half  
years of the same, sleeping outside still made Kenji sore sometimes. So as he  
stretched, Kenji also tried to work the kinks out of his muscles.

He was mostly successful. Once he had worked most of the aches and soreness  
out of his body, Kenji heard the sound of someone walking in the woods. Kenji  
had long ago learned to recognize just this kind of sound. Not sure if this was  
one of the people that his dad wanted him to avoid, Kenji pulled the raincoat  
back up over his head and tried to be as quiet as he possibly could.

As he listened closer, Kenji realized that the footsteps were coming his way.  
Breathing as quietly as he was able to, Kenji hoped that whoever was coming  
would just pass him by. He hadn't been out in the storm for very long, but  
Kenji also hadn't gotten a very good sleep last night. There had been  
something rustling around outside the tent late last night.

Kenji had heard it when he'd woken up. It had made him nervous, and he'd  
stayed more still than was usual for him. Normally, when Kenji woke up in the  
middle of the night, he'd spend a lot of time tossing and turning, trying to  
get back into a comfortable position so he could fall back to sleep. But lying  
there, listening to whoever or whatever it was making all that noise, Kenji had  
frozen.

Now that he was awake enough to reflect on it, Kenji just thought it was some  
animal scuffling around. Not that that was less of a reason to stay quiet. Kenji  
had no more desire to be eaten by a wild animal than he had to be taken away  
from his father by Chronos. Sighing softly, Kenji noticed that the footsteps  
still hadn't gone away.

If anything, they were louder now than they had been before. Just as Kenji  
was about to start looking for a weapon, he heard something that made him forget  
all of his earlier worries.

"Kenji? Kenji, are you awake yet?"

Jumping to the forefront of his tent so fast that he seemed to teleport,  
Kenji unzipped the front flap and stuck his head out.

"Dad! I didn't think you'd be back so soon," Kenji grinned up  
at his father. "Is there any special reason?"

"Two, actually," Masaki said, as he sat down on the still-drying  
grass. "I heard that storm last night, it sounded like a bad one. Are you  
okay?"

"Yeah, dad, I'm fine," Kenji nodded, crawling out of the tent and  
coming to sit down in front of his dad. "It wasn't as bad as some of the  
others I've been through."

Masaki sighed. "So you're really all right? You're not just saying  
that?"

"Dad, I'm fine," Kenji smiled calmly, cerulean eyes giving no lie  
to his words. "Now, what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

Masaki seemed to be considering just what he was going to say next.  
"Kenji, you remember how I always told you that the only people we could  
really trust were each other? That anyone could be a Zoanoid in disguise?"

"Yeah dad, I remember all that."

"Well, I found some people that I know aren't Zoanoids. And I was  
wondering if you would like to meet them. Maybe even stay with them, if you  
want." _And if I can manage to break the idea to them in a way that even  
Makashima will agree to it._

"You mean stay in a real house, with other people?"

"Yes Kenji," Masaki smiled at his son's unhidden excitement.  
"A log cabin, in fact. We'll still be moving around a lot, but at least  
we'd be together again."

Kenji looked as if he was holding back a jubilant cheer by force of will  
alone. "Really? You mean I'd never have to go back to this tent? Not  
ever?"

"Not ever," Masaki smiled warmly, reassuring Kenji that everything  
would go well. _I'm sure Sho and Tetsuro will be okay with the idea. Mizuki  
too. I'm not really sure how Shizu will react, or the old man. And Makashima…_  
Masaki turned his head slightly, glaring at nothing in particular. If Makashima  
wanted to make an issue out of Kenji's staying with them, then Masaki would  
gladly introduce Guyver III to his fist.

"Can I come with you?"

Masaki thought that over. "No. I really think it's best that you stay  
here. I've always been known to travel alone. And there are still people who  
might be Zoanoids out here. I'll tell them about you, and then I'll bring  
them to meet you."

"Okay," Kenji nodded. "That sounds good, dad."

"I'm glad you think so," Masaki smiled, ruffling Kenji's hair  
one last time, before turning to leave.

Kenji, for his part, got up and walked back into his tent. Zipping it shut  
once he was fully inside, Kenji took a moment to wonder just what these new  
people his dad wanted him to meet would be like.

xXxXx

Richard Guyot, one of the twelve Chronos Overlords and sole survivor of the  
destruction of Chronos Japan's secondary base, made his way into the upper  
level of Relics Point. He intended to make another inquiry into the status of  
Dr. Shirai's research into the Unit Remover. It had been his pet project, a  
secret from the other eleven Overlords, ever since the Guyver units had been  
discovered.

It was Guyot's intention to someday possess one of the Guyvers, preferably  
the one that Agito Makashima had activated, if only for the sake of irony. He  
would show that traitor what it meant to arouse the wrath of a Zoalord. _Zeus,  
I should have suspected,_ Guyot groused. _The rebellious son of the god  
Chronos. I should have known it was Makashima the moment he said that._

Guyot remembered that he had been fairly well versed in ancient mythology, not  
a scholar by any stretch of the imagination, but he had known more than most of  
the people who had been close to him. It was most embarrassing for someone who  
had prided himself on having that kind of knowledge to be thrown off by  
something that simple. But then, there _had_ been a battle going on at the  
time.

Fukamachi's Guyver had somehow managed to regenerate itself from the  
Control Medal alone, and Guyver I had been doing a great deal of damage to  
Chronos Japan's secondary headquarters. Maybe that had been the reason that Guyot  
hadn't been able to figure out Makashima's oblique reference. Yes, that  
had to be it.

The odd symbol on the lower right-hand corner of the screen caught Guyot's  
eye then. It was flashing, and so Guyot sat down to see what it was. Clicking on  
the icon, Guyot found that it brought up a video clip. The video itself was  
timestamped; whatever had been recorded had happened merely twenty minutes ago.

As Guyot watched, he began to smile. Masaki Murakami, another man who had been  
a nuisance to the Chronos Corporation, and one who had been known to have been a  
family man. The wife had been a confirmed kill, and the son had been believed to  
have died in the collapse of a building that one of Guyot's own Zoanoid teams  
had brought down. There _had_ in fact been reports of a longhaired man  
stumbling out of a collapsed building.

The Zoanoids that Guyot had sent had also reported the small bundle of  
bloodstained cloth that Murakami had been carrying. It had been very easy at  
that time to surmise that the blood-soaked remains of Murakami's son had been  
covered by all that cloth. But, now that Guyot thought about it, he saw how easy  
it would have been for Murakami to spill some of his own blood on those sheets.

The only thing Guyot really wondered about now was how this new discovery  
could be used to his own advantage. _Perhaps the Unit Remover can wait for a  
few hours._ Guyot smiled coldly. Yes, the situation clearly merited closer  
investigation. Getting up from the computer terminal, Guyot quickly erased the  
video from the Chronos mainframe, along with all the records of it having been  
made.

No sense in leaving any loose ends, after all. Walking back to the elevator  
that would take him up and out of Relics Point, Guyot quickly scanned for any  
Zoanoids that were out patrolling the forest. Locating a pair of Ramochis and a  
small group of Gregole, Guyot stepped into the elevator. Commanding all of them  
to meet up with him, Guyot teleported out of the elevator and into the forest  
itself.

Once outside, Guyot could tell that all the Zoanoids he had called were  
beginning to gather. In a few minutes they had all assembled. Looking through  
their minds, Guyot found that one of the Ramochis had been the one to plant the  
camera, on orders of Dr. Balkus, that had given Guyot the means to strike another  
blow against Murakami.

"Ramochis, you will take me to that tent where you found the boy," Guyot  
ordered.

"Yes, Commander Guyot."

__

You've gotten careless, Murakami, Guyot laughed to himself. _And you  
are about to learn again just why you should never have started this foolish  
rebellion in the first place._ As Guyot followed Ramochis to the part of the  
forest where Murakami's son stayed, he again considered what he was going to  
do when he got there.

__

I suppose, though, that I can always… wing it, as the humans seem to be so  
fond of saying. Guyot chuckled aloud this time, not caring what the Zoanoids  
around him made of the sound.

xXxXx

As he made his way back to the cabin, Masaki tried again to think of just how  
he was going to bring up the idea of his son staying at the cabin with the rest  
of them. And how to even bring up the fact that he _had_ a son in the first  
place. _Then again, it's late enough in the morning that everyone will  
probably be awake by now. Maybe I can just tell them about him first. I'll see  
how they react, and then I'll know what else to say._

Masaki nodded to himself; it wasn't the most elaborate plan, but it was  
much better than doing nothing. Walking through the forest, taking the same kind  
of elaborate, winding non-trail that had become almost routine for him, Masaki  
hoped again that Sho, Mizuki and the others would be open to what he was going  
to propose. Masaki could just see the cabin now, as he made it through the last  
stand of trees in his way.


	6. Found

Guyot, following just behind Ramochis as the Zoanoid led him to where Murakami's  
son was waiting, came into sight of the stand of trees that Ramochis recognized  
as being very close to where the boy's tent was hidden. Guyot knew that he  
would have to move fast if he wanted to get to the boy before Murakami returned  
to take him, and so he gave a quick telepathic order to the Zoanoids around him  
to speed up.

Guyot quickened his own pace, and soon they all stood just seven feet from the  
tent where the boy was. Guyot wasn't entirely sure just how alert this Kenji  
Murakami was to his surroundings, but it would not be remiss to show some  
caution in his approach. With that in mind, Guyot ordered all his Zoanoids to  
conceal themselves in the forest and wait for further instructions.

Approaching the tent alone, Guyot waited until he passed through the bushes  
that acted as further visual obstructions to anyone that would be passing  
through this area. He had to give Murakami credit for one thing, however  
grudgingly: the man was extremely thorough. The bushes wouldn't have been much  
of a hindrance to anyone who was actually looking for the tent, as Guyot himself  
was now proving, but they still kept it out of the line-of-sight of any casual  
hikers.

Crouching down in front of the tent, as Murakami himself had done at first, Guyot  
called to the boy inside.

"Kenji? Your father sent me to come get you," he lied. "Are  
you awake?"

The front flap of the tent was unzipped from the inside, and Guyot found  
himself face to face with Murakami's son. The boy looked healthy, well  
cared-for, and a little wary.

"You know my dad?"

"Oh yes," Guyot said, nodding. "I know your father very  
well." _The bastard._

"I thought he was going to come and get me himself," the boy said,  
looking confused and a bit disappointed.

"That's what he said?" Guyot asked, wanting to make it seem like  
he didn't already know all about Murakami's conversation with his son.

"Yeah. Didn't he tell you that?"

"No, he didn't say anything about that." It was a half-truth at  
best, since Murakami wouldn't be likely to say anything to Guyot that didn't  
involve some kind of pitiful threat.

"You're not a… a Zoanoid, are you?"

"Me? A Zoanoid? Of course not," said Guyot the Zoalord.

"Oh, that's good," the boy looked relieved. "For a second  
there, I was worried."

"Well now," Guyot said, turning away slightly and smiling in the  
manner of a hyena just before it sank its teeth into a particularly tasty piece  
of meat. "There's really no need for you to be so afraid of me. After  
all, I'm a good friend of your father."

Now _that_ was a blatant fabrication, but either the boy was  
deliberately ignoring the undertones of Guyot's words, or he really was naïve  
enough to not have caught them at all. Given how young and sheltered the  
Murakami boy was, Guyot was more willing to believe the latter over the former.

"Now that we've gotten acquainted, Kenji, we really should go and find  
your father," as he said this, Guyot stood up.

"Wow, you're really tall," the boy said, craning his neck just to  
be able to look up at Guyot. "I don't think I'm going to be able to keep  
up with you. Hey I just realized, I forgot to ask you your name."

"My name is Richard Guyot. And don't worry about keeping up with  
me," so saying, Guyot swept the young Murakami up into his long, strong  
arms.

Startled at first, Kenji soon relaxed into Gee-oh's hold. This man was  
friends with his dad, and besides, Gee-oh felt nice and warm when Kenji curled  
up against him "Mr. Gee-oh, sir? When are we going to meet up with my  
dad?"

"Soon," Guyot lied.

A quick tap to the back of the boy's head, directly on one of his pressure  
points, and the Murakami boy had fallen fast asleep. Now there was just the  
matter of how to use this boy against his father.

For a moment, Guyot's large hand closed around the boy's neck. It would be  
so very easy to snap it; to leave the boy's corpse for Murakami to find. But  
then Guyot had a very interesting idea indeed. If using the Fukamachi boy's _father_  
against him had produced such interesting psychological results, as Dr. Balkus  
had reported, then it would stand to reason that using Murakami's son would  
produce the same kind of results.

But the boy was young enough that he might not be able to survive the  
processing. _Fah, age can be changed just as easily as his physical and  
genetic makeup,_ Guyot thought derisively. There only remained the matter of  
what form the boy would be processed into. Making him a Zoanoid would be  
pointless, and more than likely counterproductive.

Since Guyot had also seen the footage of Murakami's battle with the Enzyme  
IIs in the forest by this time, he now know that Murakami was a Proto-Zoalord.  
As he called his Zoanoids back to him and began walking, Guyot though back to  
what he and Dr. Balkus had learned. Dr. Balkus, when he had seen the battle-form  
that Murakami possessed, had been at first convinced that Masaki Murakami was a  
real Zoalord.

But, after some time and consideration, it had been decided that no true  
Zoalord would ever be subject to the weaknesses that Murakami had displayed. The  
way he had collapsed after the battle had clinched it in Guyot's mind. After  
all, battling a team of merely four Zoanoids – even those classified as  
Guyver-killers – would not have taken that much of a toll on him or Balkus, to  
say nothing of Alkanphel.

As Guyot prepared himself to teleport back into Relics Point, the Zoalord had  
another interesting thought. While it would be entertaining to have Murakami  
come to the tent and search for his son, finding nothing, Guyot decided that it  
would be far more entertaining to see how he reacted if he _knew_ that his  
precious son was gone.

With his decision made, Guyot ordered his Zoanoids to destroy the tent  
Murakami had set up, as well as anything and everything inside it. When he  
teleported back into Relics Point, Guyot took one last look through the eyes of  
the Zoanoids that he had called. What he saw pleased him: the tent's heavy  
canvas had been ripped to pieces, the books that had been inside were shredded  
and tossed out onto the ground for the worms and other forest insects to feed  
on.

Turning his attention back to the young boy who was sleeping peacefully in  
his arms, Guyot smirked. He knew now just what use that he could put the boy to.  
A Proto-Zoalord could never hope to stand up against a real Zoalord, and  
Murakami would never be able to fight against his own son. After that particular  
little revelation, Guyot teleported down to the deepest levels of Mt. Minakami.

This was where the new breeds of Zoanoids were developed, and a few of the  
scientists present were more loyal to him than to that old fool Balkus. One of  
his loyal scientists was approaching now.

"Greetings, Commander Guyot. What brings you all the way down here?"

"I have an assignment for you. Dr. Henderson, isn't it?" Guyot queried.

"Halverson, sir," Dr. Halverson corrected. "What would you  
like me to do for you?"

"This boy," Guyot said, handing the Murakami boy over to the doctor.  
"I want him processed as quickly and quietly as you can manage."

Halverson seemed uncertain. "I'm sure that I can manage something,  
Commander. But with his currant state of physical development, I doubt that he  
would survive for very long as a Zoanoid."

"Not a Zoanoid," Guyot said, smiling in a manner that never failed  
to unnerve the doctor. "A Zoalord."

"Like you, sir?" Halverson asked, realizing even as he did that  
that was a very stupid question.

"Of course."


	7. Gone

Looking down at the child in his arms, Dr. Halverson saw him begin to stir.  
The boy's eyes opened, and he yawned hugely.

"Ohhh," the boy moaned softly as he stretched. "I guess I fell  
asleep."

"Yes, I suppose you did," Commander Guyot said.

"Mr. Guyot? What are we doing here?" the boy was obviously confused,  
but he didn't seem to be as fearful or apprehensive as Halverson would have  
expected.

The only answer that Commander Guyot gave was that same, unnerving smile.  
Turning, Guyot left without saying anything else to either Halverson or the boy.  
Halverson was confused, but obviously not as confused as the boy himself was. He  
called to the Commander twice more, before turning his attention to Halverson  
himself.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Dr. Edmund Halverson. I guess I'll be taking care of you  
now," Halverson said, mainly to put the boy at ease. In Halverson's  
experience it was much easier to deal with young children when they were calm.  
And this boy was obviously only six or seven years old. Carrying him deeper into  
the processing lab, Halverson spotted two of his colleagues and waved them over.

"Hey, Ed. Who's the kid?" Dr. Sanderson asked.

"I'm not too sure about that, myself," Dr. Halverson said,  
leaning over to whisper conspiratorially to the other two. "But the  
Commander wants him processed into a Zoalord."

"A Zoa_lord_? Are you sure you heard that right?" Dr.  
Henderson asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Dr. Halverson said, glancing back down at the  
boy. "After all, it's pretty hard to mistake that word for any other  
one."

"Yeah, I guess it would be," Dr. Sanderson admitted.

"What are you guys all talking about? I can't hear," the boy  
said, sounding more than a little put out.

"Nothing important," Dr. Halverson lied. Then, turning back to his  
two colleagues, Halverson leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to them again.  
"Let's get him to the processing-tanks quickly, before he starts asking  
all kinds of questions."

They nodded, and all three of them hurried over to one of the few empty  
processing-tanks in their part of the lab. This tank had not even been filled  
with processing fluid in preparation for making another Zoanoid. A room just  
like this one was where Fumio Fukamachi had been transformed into the first of  
the Enzyme model II Zoanoids. But the young boy who was currently in Dr.  
Halverson's arms would have had no way of knowing this fact.

Looking back down at the child, Dr. Halverson thought that he was being  
unexpectedly docile for someone his age, as if he was used to being carried  
around like some kind of luggage. It was odd, but Halverson wasn't going to  
complain about it. His mind was more deeply engaged in the problem that the boy's  
age had presented to him.

There was simply no way that anyone of his age would be able to survive for  
more than half-an-hour as a Zoalord. Even then, that estimate was being very  
generous. _There are ways to counteract that, though,_ Dr. Halverson mused._  
I just have to figure out what they might be. Typical of Commander Guyot to give  
me a job and then not tell me what I need to do to get it done._

But such thoughts were considered treasonous by Commander Guyot, and Halverson  
only hoped that the Commander wouldn't somehow develop the ability to read the  
minds of humans as well as Zoanoids. But that wasn't Halverson's problem  
now, all he needed to do was to find a way to do the job that he had just been  
given. As his agile mind went to work on the problem at hand, Halverson came  
upon a solution.

If the boy's body at its currant state of physical development would be  
unable to withstand the stress of becoming a Zoalord, then it would be a simple  
matter to change that. With Chronos' processing technology, and his extensive  
knowledge of human physiology, it would be very easy for Halverson to force the  
boy's body to physically age to the point where he would be able to survive  
the transformation.

However, the first order of business was to make absolutely sure that the boy  
would not be able to resist when he finally realized that something untoward was  
going to happen to him.

"Dr. Henderson, could you please hand me one of those syringes?"  
Dr. Halverson asked.

"Of course."

The tray-full of filled syringes, used for subduing those humans who were due  
to be processed into Sleeper Units, sat on a counter on the far left-hand side  
of the lab. Much easier for Dr. Henderson to reach than Dr. Halverson. In short  
order, Dr. Henderson had left and returned with the requested syringe. Slapping  
a hand over the boy's mouth so he couldn't protest or call for help, Dr.  
Halverson watched as his fellow scientist stuck the needle into the boy's  
neck.

The boy slowly went limp as most of his nerves were deadened by the drug, but  
Dr. Halverson could see the slowly building fear in his eyes. He had never  
processed a kid before, and Chronos had never expressed an interest in anyone  
this young before. It was kind of hard for Halverson to put aside his own  
personal feelings and do the job he had been assigned, what with the kid's  
fear-filled eyes staring up at him.

"We have to get rid of these clothes," Dr. Halverson said, making a  
concerted effort to distance himself from what was happening.

"Right," Dr. Henderson said, tugging at the boy's light blue  
shirt.

The kid was deep enough under the effects of the drug that he had gone  
completely limp, and when Halverson let go of his lower body, the kid's legs  
fell backward like a pair of lifeless tubes. They bumped against Halverson's  
abdomen in what felt like a weak kick, and Halverson felt like he deserved that  
much. At least he couldn't see the kid's eyes anymore, since his head was  
now pointed at the ground.

"Just think of it as undressing a rag doll," Dr. Henderson said  
helpfully, working the kid's shirt off.

"Right."

xXxXx

Masaki made his way through the forest, leading a group of all the people who  
had decided to come along on this excursion. That had turned out not to be very  
many people at all, just Sho, Tetsuro, Mizuki and himself. Makashima hadn't  
cared one way or the other, but Shizu and the old man had been somewhat  
enthusiastic.

It was a strange thing to consider, the fact that people might actually want  
to help him, but Masaki had dealt with strange things before.

"So Mr. Murakami, when are we going to get to meet your son?"  
Tetsuro asked.

"Kenji's tent is just thirteen more feet in that direction,"  
Masaki said, pointing forward and to the right a bit.

"I can't wait to meet him," Mizuki said happily. "I bet he's  
so cute."

"He is," Masaki said, smiling. "I used to have lots of  
pictures of him, but they got lost in the fire." Masaki looked downcast for  
a moment, then brightened up as he remembered something. "I still have one  
left, though."

Pulling the aforementioned photograph out of his pocket, Masaki handed it  
over to Mizuki.

"Aww," she cooed. "He's adorable. But who's that man  
standing behind you, Mr. Murakami?"

Masaki took the picture back from Mizuki and studied it for a minute. There  
he was, sitting on the couch, with Kenji in his lap waving at the camera. Gray  
was standing behind him, giving him bunny ears. Masaki chuckled a bit sadly,  
remembering.

"His name was David Grayson, though he really preferred to be called 'Gray'.  
He was a friend of mine."

Mizuki took the picture back when Masaki handed it to her. "Oh. What  
happened to him?"

"Chronos got to him," Masaki said flatly.

Sho, walking behind Murakami and Mizuki, shook his head sadly. Another life  
had been ruined by Chronos; another person turned into a Zoanoid against their  
will. _Just like my father,_ he thought. It wasn't something Sho liked to  
think about, but he knew now that even a Guyver couldn't be everywhere at  
once. Besides, that had had probably happened long before Sho had even  
discovered the Guyver.

Sho sighed, and continued to follow behind Murakami and Mizuki.

Masaki, now that he was moving in that direction, had become very eager to  
see his son again. He was really looking forward to seeing the look on Kenji's  
face when all these new people showed up. It might be a little hard for Kenji to  
get used to living with other people after being alone for so long. But Kenji  
was as adaptable as Masaki himself, and he was still young enough that the  
change wouldn't take too much time to adjust to.

As he made his way through the forest, for some reason Masaki was unable to  
shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was probably just the two trips  
he had made to see Kenji already, since this would be the third time this month  
he would be paying his son a visit. Yes, it was probably just the break in his  
routine that was making him uneasy. Still, Masaki knew that the sooner he could  
get Kenji safely to the cabin where they were staying, the better he would feel.

It was only when he kicked something that Masaki looked down, knowing this  
path well enough to know that there weren't any rocks in this path for him to  
kick. Looking down, Masaki saw that what he had kicked hadn't been a rock at  
all. Bending over to pick up the offending object, Masaki began to feel a  
slightly unsettling sensation of premonition.

It was a book. One of the many books that he had bought for Kenji to read  
when he was alone in his tent.

"No…" Masaki said lowly, not wanting to believe what he was  
seeing.

Breaking into a run, and ignoring the calls from Sho and Mizuki, Masaki only  
stopped when he stood again on the spot where he had set up the tent that had  
hidden his son.

"No. No. No…"

The tent was still there, pieces of it at least. The shredded canvas was  
scattered over the forest floor like some mockery of fallen leaves, or else a  
monument to his failure. Masaki could now see all of the books that he had  
bought for Kenji over the years, now torn apart and scattered along with the  
remains of his son's tent. Wading into the pile of debris, Masaki began to  
look for his son's body.

No matter how heartless it might have seemed to another person, Masaki was  
hoping that he would find his son's corpse among the wreckage of the tent and  
the books. As far as Masaki was concerned, it was better to be dead than to be  
captured by Chronos. Looking for any trace of blood proved to be a fruitless  
search, but Masaki did manage to find the old stuffed toy that Kenji loved to  
carry around with him.

It was old and worn threadbare in places, but anyone could still tell that it  
was meant to be a tiger. Kenji had named the toy Kaji, and he would take it  
anywhere and everywhere that Masaki would let him. Picking up the toy, Masaki  
tucked it under his left arm. It would be something to remember his son by,  
something to remind him of yet another thing that Chronos had taken from him.

"Mr. Murakami! Mr. Murakami!"

Masaki heard Sho calling him, but he ignored the boy in favor of searching  
through the wreckage of the tent.

"Oh my god!"

When Masaki heard Mizuki shout, he looked up. Mizuki, Sho and Tetsuro were  
all staring in horror at the wreckage where he stood. Nodding curtly to them,  
Masaki turned back to the rubble and continued his search.

"What could've happened here?" Mizuki asked, staring in horrified  
fascination at the devastation surrounding her.

"I'll tell you what happened here," Tetsuro said, anger at the  
Chronos Corporation making his voice rough. "Chronos must have found out  
about this place somehow, and sent some Zoanoids to destroy it."

"That's just what I was going to say," Masaki put in, looking up.

"What are you looking for, Mr. Murakami?" Sho asked.

"Kenji's body," Masaki said flatly. "I'm going to bury it  
when we get back to the cabin. Then I'm going to find the bastards that did  
this to my son and kill them."

"I'll help," Sho said, stepping forward.

"Thanks," Masaki nodded.


	8. Regret

Sho and Masaki sifted through the debris, looking for any signs of  
blood that might give them some hint of where Kenji Murakami's body was  
hidden. In the end, though, neither of them were able to find any trace of the  
boy. Tetsuro, who had been idly wandering around the edge of the clearing and  
looking at the trees, not wanting to intrude on Sho and Mr. Murakami's search,  
was the first one to find out about the camera.

It had been turned off by Commander Guyot, which was a good thing for them  
all, since there was no way that they could have avoided being seen by it with  
the way they were all moving around.

"Mr. Murakami!" Tetsuro called, once he had realized the  
significance of what he was looking at.

"What is it, Tetsuro?" Murakami asked, turning away from the pile  
of destroyed books that he'd been digging through.

"I found something I think you might want to have a look at,"  
Tetsuro said, pointing out the concealed camera.

Masaki came over quickly, dropping the ruined books and narrowing his eyes as  
he looked at the spot where Tetsuro was pointing. Masaki's eyes narrowed to  
enraged slits as he realized just what he was looking at. _Those sons of  
bitches!_ For there, attached to the tree and hidden in such a way that no  
one who wasn't actually looking for it would even notice the thing, was a  
small handheld camera.

"I should have suspected they'd do something like this," Masaki  
said, the hatred he usually felt for Chronos overshadowed for the moment by his  
own self-hatred.

He should have known, should have suspected that something like this would  
have happened. He should have taken Kenji with him as soon as his son had  
expressed an interest in leaving. Or he should have never changed his tactics in  
the first place, and only visited the single time that he had planed. Hadn't  
Kenji been perfectly able to deal with storms like the one that had happened  
last night?

Hell, Kenji had even said himself that he hadn't been afraid last night. If  
he'd just listened to his survival instincts instead of giving in to some  
stupid paternal urge, Kenji would still be here waiting the next time that  
Masaki came out to see him. But that was all in the past now, and as much as  
Masaki was loath to have to do it, he had to focus on the future if he was ever  
going to be able to get his revenge on Chronos for what they had done.

And right now, that meant laying his son to rest so that Chronos wouldn't  
somehow be able to use Kenji's body against him. If Masaki had let himself  
think about the fact that he was looking for the body of his dead son, he was  
sure that he would scream, so Masaki made an effort not to think about it. It  
would become real once he found Kenji's body, until then it was just an  
abstract exercise.

Glaring at the camera, Masaki ripped it out of its hiding place and crushed  
it in his hand. Turning away from the tree with a decisive snap, Masaki walked  
back to the rubble and scattered debris that had once been his son's shelter. _Maybe  
I should have let Kenji stay with the ACF._ But the inherent mistrust of  
anyone but himself and his son had led Masaki to make that decision, now he  
would only have to live with it.

__

I hope for Kenji's sake it was quick and painless, but knowing those  
bastards it probably wasn't.

xXxXx

Fully undressed and laying in a heap at the bottom of the still empty  
processing-tank, the kid's wide, deep blue-green eyes were beginning to glaze  
over by now. Dr. Halverson, as he worked on the chemical solution that would  
trigger the necessary development – a mixture of growth hormones, muscle  
stimulants, assorted vitamins and minerals, and an extra boost of calcium to  
harden the boy's bones – was grateful for small favors.

Finishing the necessary adjustments to the solution, Dr. Halverson started  
feeding it into the tank. He hated to imagine what it must've been like for  
the kid, what with being paralyzed and then suddenly having this watery  
substance poured over him. He had done this kind of thing before, yes, but that  
had always been with fully-grown men, and even then some of those people had  
been volunteers. Dr. Halverson reminded himself again that he was just doing his  
job.

Dr. Sanderson had taken care of getting the kid ready for processing after  
Dr. Henderson had left. Thanks to him, there were already monitoring devices  
attached to all the proper points on the kid's body. He'd been a bit  
squeamish about handling a nude, helpless kid like that. It had seemed almost  
like molestation at the time, but Sanderson had just shrugged off his concerns  
like they had been annoying insects. Halverson had been grateful to his fellow  
scientist for doing something he couldn't.

The tank was a little more than half-full of fluid by this time, and the kid's  
own natural buoyancy was now causing him to float upright near the bottom of the  
tank. The tank was filling quickly, and Halverson wondered idly for a moment  
whether the kid would end up at the top of the processing-tank by the time he  
stopped rising. Shaking himself out of those pointless thoughts, Dr. Halverson  
turned his attention back to his monitoring duties.

The chemicals were just now starting to take effect, but there wouldn't be  
any sign of real physical changes for at least the first ten minutes. But, even  
then, Dr. Halverson had to stay and monitor the growth of the… of the  
specimen. It would be long, boring work, but it was a necessary in this case. It  
would be only too easy to make a mistake that would cost the child his life. All  
the easier, in fact, since Halverson was still feeling uncertain about what he  
had to do.

But, when it really came down to it, it was in fact his life or the boy's.  
Commander Guyot was brutally unforgiving of mistakes, and he was a sadistic son  
of a bitch besides. Halverson knew that the only way he was going to live to see  
his next paycheck was if he did his job right. He just wasn't that noble.  
Breathing deeply, Dr. Halverson concentrated on his job. The muscle stimulants  
seemed to be taking effect by now if the readings he was getting from the  
processing-tank were accurate, and Halverson knew they were.

Looking back at the boy in the processing-tank, Halverson saw that the  
physical changes had become visible by now, if only just. The boy's  
musculature was showing at least a fifty percent increase, and his stature had  
started to change as well.

xXxXx

It had taken twenty minutes, a conversation, and a few destroyed trees, but  
Mr. Murakami had eventually come to accept the fact that his son was gone. Sho  
himself had been the one to pull the older man away from where he had still been  
digging through the remains of the tent and the books, and to tell him that  
there was no body to be found. Mr. Murakami, of course, hadn't wanted to  
believe it at first. And Sho couldn't really blame him for that, since being  
kidnapped by Chronos was a fate that all of them considered worse than death.

Sho didn't even want to think about what Chronos was probably doing to the  
poor boy. _Just like my father. This is all so wrong,_ Sho thought sadly,  
shaking his head. He only hoped that Kenji didn't end up becoming a Zoanoid,  
too. For his sake, as well as Mr. Murakami's, Sho hoped that Kenji Murakami  
would die peacefully. Looking up from his place in the middle of the group, Sho  
could see that they were coming within sight of the cabin again.

Mr. Murakami, who had been silent after taking out his completely  
understandable rage at Chronos on three of the trees and the remains of the  
tent, was walking at the front of the group. He was also still holding on to the  
old, beaten up stuffed tiger that he had pulled out of the rubble of the tent.  
Sho couldn't help but think that it had once belonged to his son. The cabin  
was just the way they had left it, but the hope and excitement of the group when  
they had left was completely gone by now.

"I can't believe it," Mizuki said, sniffling. "I just can't  
believe that even Chronos could be that heartless."

From the front of their group, Mr. Murakami made a sound that was somewhere  
between contempt and exhaustion.

"Believe it, Mizuki," Tetsuro said, patting his sister's  
shoulder. "They've done this kind of thing before. Remember what happened  
to Mr. Fukamachi."

"Yes," Mizuki said, wiping at the tearstains on her face. "I  
remember that. But… but Kenji was just a little boy."

"It doesn't matter how old he was," Mr. Murakami said flatly,  
speaking for the first time since they had started back to the cabin. "The  
only fact that matters is that Kenji was my son. That's why Chronos kidnapped  
him. I only hope that they didn't manage to turn him into a Zoanoid. Or, if  
they did, I at least hope that I would have the strength to…"

Mizuki gasped, looking over at Mr. Murakami in shocked disbelief. "Mr.  
Murakami, you… you don't mean that you would actually kill your own  
son!"

"I'll do whatever I have to," Mr. Murakami said flatly.

Mizuki looked as if she was going to try and argue, but Tetsuro put a hand on  
her shoulder, silently urging Mizuki not to. They would all just have to hope  
that that kind of decision never came up. The rest of their walk was in silence,  
right up until Mr. Murakami reached the door of the cabin. Knocking in a  
predetermined pattern, Mr. Murakami waited for someone to answer him. The door  
opened soon after he had stepped back.

"You're back," Shizu said enthusiastically.

"We are," Mr. Murakami said wearily, brushing past her and heading  
for his room.

"What's the matter?" Shizu asked, turning and following Mr.  
Murakami with her eyes.

"Ask someone else," Mr. Murakami said, just loud enough for Shizu  
to hear. Not paying attention to anything that anyone else was saying, Masaki  
Murakami walked away.

xXxXx

Masaki felt drained. He felt even worse than he had the times that he had  
been forced to fight Hyper Zoanoids. This was so much worse than simply having  
to strain more, to push himself harder in a battle that he had started in the  
first place. Up till now it had been easy to forget that the Zoanoids he faced  
in combat had once been ordinary people with hopes and dreams of their own.

They had all just been the enemy. An enemy that Masaki had had no qualms  
about dealing with, even about killing when that became necessary. But this was  
different; Kenji had been with him for six years and six months, he was the last  
living memory of Miaka that would ever exist. Masaki wasn't sure that he would  
even be able to use his telepathic powers on Kenji if it ever came down to that  
kind of situation.

But all that was probably a moot concern since the transformation itself  
would probably kill Kenji anyway; ripping his small, fragile body apart from the  
inside out. It was a depressing kind of thing to hope for, but it was the best  
out of any scenario that Masaki could think of. Looking up, Masaki saw someone  
standing in the hallway that led to his room.


	9. Plans

"Murakami, we have a problem," Makashima said without preamble.

"When don't we," Masaki sighed. And it was true, the people who  
had chosen to fight against Chronos always seemed to be on the wrong end of  
Murphy's Law. "What is it this time?"

"You know as well as I do that we need to leave this place as quickly as  
possible," Makashima said calmly. "Are you sure that the only way out  
is through Takeshiro village?"

Masaki knew why Makashima was asking that particular question. Their first  
and last trip through Takeshiro village had been a complete fiasco, involving  
the discovery that Sho had lost his ability to Bio-Boost, a running battle  
between them and several teams of Zoanoids, and the slaughter of said Zoanoids  
by Guyver III. It was only later that they found out that Agito had been forced  
into revealing his identity in front of Dr. Balkus and several other Zoanoids.

Sho had gone on to regain his abilities as Guyver I, but only after Aptom had  
nearly killed Mizuki in front of him. All of this was running through Masaki's  
mind as he tried to think of some other way that they would all be able to  
escape this place without having to go through Chronos' deathtrap again. In  
the end though, Masaki was forced to concede the point.

"No. I've been through this area in the past. The only way out of this  
valley is through Takeshiro."

Makashima sighed, looking only mildly annoyed. "Yes, I thought that  
might be the case. Leave it to Chronos to set up a perfect trap," he  
sounded rueful. "We should start preparing to evacuate this place as soon  
as possible."

"I know," Masaki said, nodding.

"I'll inform the others," Makashima said over his shoulder as he  
walked away. "By the way Murakami, where's your son?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Masaki said flatly as he turned  
and headed for his room. He didn't see what else Makashima did, since his back  
was now turned toward the Dark Guyver, but Masaki could hear his retreating  
footsteps.

The empty hallway helped Masaki not to think about the things he didn't  
want to remember, and focusing on another task helped as well. Once he stood in  
front of the door to 'his' room, Masaki remembered that he had been carrying  
the stuffed tiger Kaji the entire time that he had been conversing with  
Makashima. A weary almost-chuckle forced its way out of his throat, both for the  
fact that he had forgotten about the toy almost completely, and for the fact  
that Makashima hadn't made a single comment about it.

Cradling the stuffed toy for a moment the way he would have cradled his son,  
Masaki opened the door to his room and looked around for anything in there that  
was his. The only items that he had brought in with him, though, were the  
containers for the extra ammunition that his Zoanoid Buster took. The case for  
the Zoanoid Buster itself was just visible along with the others under the bed.

xXxXx

Sho was just starting to gather up the very few possessions that he had been  
able to bring to the remote cabin where they had been staying for the last two  
weeks. His mind wasn't really on the task at hand, though. Instead Sho was  
thinking about how quickly the world could change, without even the slightest  
bit of warning. Sho was pretty sure that it wasn't that long ago that he had  
been just a normal student, but at times it could feel like all that was a  
lifetime ago.

As Sho carried the few pieces of clothing that were all that he had managed  
to bring with him, Sho wondered for a moment whether or not he wanted to bring  
the Chronos jumpsuit that Agito had stolen for him to wear. On the one hand, it  
was a tangible reminder of the failed mission to rescue his father; but on the  
other hand it was also a very useful disguise. Who knew, there might even come a  
time that they had to infiltrate Chronos again.

In the end, Sho decided to keep the jumpsuit and helmet that Agito had given  
him, at least until it became obvious that he didn't need them anymore.  
Rolling the jumpsuit into a small bundle, Sho stuffed it into the helmet and  
tucked the helmet itself under his arm. Leaving the room where he had been  
staying, Sho only hoped that they would be able to escape this time. As pretty  
as this valley was, it still held too many bad memories for Sho to ever really  
be comfortable staying.

Leaving the room, Sho passed Mizuki in the hallway. Mizuki had also collected  
the few clothes that she had been able to bring with her. Fewer now, after Aptom  
had destroyed the outfit she had previously been wearing. In fact, the clothes  
Mizuki was wearing now had been borrowed from Shizu.

"Hi Mizuki, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Sho. How are you doing? Last night wasn't easy on either  
of us," Mizuki said.

"I'm all right, I guess. Still getting used to things," Sho hung  
his head. "I guess things are going to start up again. I heard we're  
going to try to get out through Takeshiro again."

"Yeah," Mizuki sighed. "I heard that, too. I hope we make it  
out this time. I don't think any of us could really stand another day in this  
cabin."

"Yeah," Sho nodded. "And that's assuming that none of the  
Zoanoids find us. We aren't safe here anymore."

"I wonder if we'll ever really be safe anywhere," Mizuki sighed,  
looking down at the wood floor of the cabin.

"Don't worry, Mizuki," Sho said, putting his hand on her shoulder  
and rubbing gently. "I can transform into the Guyver again, I'll protect  
you. I promise."

"Thank you, Sho," Mizuki said, smiling up at him. Sho hugged her.

The two of them had been walking as they talked, and now they were standing  
just inside the living room. The other members of their rebel group were all  
gathering in there at this time, Sho and Mizuki were nearly the last to arrive,  
followed only by Tetsuro, who had been making absolutely sure that nothing of  
theirs was left behind.

"Hey, Sho. I was just going to start looking for you and Mizuki. Thanks  
for saving me some trouble," Tetsuro smiled lightly, showing that he was  
only kidding.

"I'm glad I could help you like that then, Tetsuro," Sho smiled,  
going along with the joke. _I don't like to be a burden,_ Sho tried to  
conceal the thoughts that ran through his mind then, not wanting Tetsuro to see  
how troubled he still was.

It seemed like all he could do was cause pain and suffering to the people who  
were unfortunate enough to care about him. Whether it was as the Guyver, killing  
Zoanoids who were once just normal, innocent people; or as Sho Fukamachi, the  
fugitive from Chronos who had dragged his two best friends into a battle against  
people who would kill them all without a single thought. Tetsuro and Mizuki were  
really too good to be friends with someone like him.

But Tetsuro wouldn't understand his reasoning if Sho tried to explain it,  
and Mizuki… well it was kind of nice to have Mizuki around. So, Sho resolved  
that he would just try as hard as he could to protect the both of them, no  
matter what it cost him in the end. With that decision made, it was that much  
easier to help the others to gather up all of their meager supplies and take  
them out to Onuma's car.

Things were mostly silent during the packing process, and Sho couldn't help  
but notice how Mr. Murakami was staying just a little bit apart from the rest of  
the group, trying to avoid even being touched by one of the others. Sho could  
understand why Mr. Murakami didn't want to get too close to the others, since  
he himself was trying to avoid coming too close to anyone else without being too  
obvious about doing so.

There was just something about the loss of a family member that isolated you  
from other people and made you want to be alone, or at least that was how Sho  
saw it. It was far worse, of course, when you ended up killing that family  
member with your own hands. It might not have been something that Sho had had  
control over at the time, but it had still been his hand that had opened the  
Mega-Smasher and fired it.

Looking over at Mr. Murakami again, Sho tried to convey his sympathy to the  
older man without any words. But, as they all climbed into the car and Shizu  
started the engine, Sho couldn't help wondering if he had been successful at  
all. There was a slight jolt as the car started moving, and Sho leaned back in  
his seat and gazed out the window at the quickly passing scenery.

He felt it when Mizuki put her hand on his shoulder, and Sho put his hand  
over hers and gently rubbed her fingers. _I really hope we make it out this  
time, somehow,_ Sho thought to himself.

xXxXx

Commander Guyot, after checking up on the status of his two little pet  
projects, was feeling a little bit at loose ends. He was currently in the  
cafeteria, enjoying a large submarine sandwich. He was very glad that the people  
who provided the meals in this place had at least had the foresight to provide  
something other than Japanese cuisine. It wasn't that Guyot was opposed to  
trying new things, but a steady diet of that kind of food could get rather  
boring.


	10. Change

Looking around at all the Zoanoid soldiers that were sitting or standing or  
walking around in this particular area, Guyot couldn't help but feel that there  
was no force in the world that could stop Chronos' plans from coming to  
fruition. Of course, Chronos' plans and his own would be forced to diverge at  
some point, a point that was of course coming closer and closer with every day  
that passed. Guyot smiled secretively, at least he would have another card to  
play soon enough.

The way that the Zoanoids all fell silent in the space between one breath and  
the next was the first thing that alerted Guyot of the fact that he was no longer  
the only Zoalord in the room. The next was the strong psychic force that all  
Zoalords exuded. It couldn't affect him the way it would have a Zoanoid, of  
course, but Guyot noticed it nonetheless. From the way he was moving, it seemed  
that the old man wanted to speak with him.

__

_Fine. I've gotten good enough at lying to the old fool that covering up  
something else will be no problem._ Guyot smiled courteously at the other  
Zoalord, taking comfort in the fact that it would only be a matter of time  
before he would be rid of the annoying old man.

"Doctor Balkus," Guyot purred, as the ancient Zoalord came into his  
line-of-sight. "To what do I owe the distinct pleasure of your  
company?"

Balkus narrowed his eyes, and Guyot gave the old Zoalord his most  
ingratiating, insincere smile. He rather enjoyed baiting the old scientist, but  
not enough to actually keep him around after Dr. Shirai had discovered how to  
operate the Unit Remover and Guyot had claimed the third Guyver unit for himself.  
Balkus was far too loyal to Alkanphel to ever be trusted that far.

In fact, the only Zoalord other than himself that Guyot truly trusted was  
Luggnagg de Krumeggnik. Then, as Guyot had another thought, he had to bite the  
inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling wider. The boy Kenji Murakami,  
once his transformation was complete, would also be loyal to Guyot and to  
Krumeggnik as well. Guyot would personally make sure of that.

After all, telepathically programming the vulnerable mind of a young Zoalord  
would be very easy. And, once he had that finished, it would only be a matter of  
time before he could claim a Guyver for himself. And then, after that, it wouldn't  
take all that much effort to convince the remaining Zoalords to work for him.  
Some of them were really only working for Chronos because Alkanphel had given  
them power beyond their wildest imaginings.

In fact, Guyot was reasonably sure that the only two Zoalords who were truly  
interested in the cause that Alkanphel promoted were Balkus himself and Fried'rich  
van Purg'stall. And perhaps Waferdanos, but Guyot hadn't known him long  
enough to be sure of that. Guyot had only heard second-hand reports of the power  
that the Supreme Chronos Overlord possessed, but there were always chances that  
those stories were exaggerated to keep his underlings in line.

All of these glorious plans were running through Guyot's mind, behind the  
telepathic barrier that he and all the other Zoalords habitually erected to keep  
others from prying into their private thoughts, while he and Balkus just sat  
there and stared at one another. Guyot's smile hadn't faltered once in all  
that time.

"One of my minor projects has been erased from the database, Commander.  
I wonder if you would know anything about this?" Balkus asked.

Even though Guyot suspected that he knew just which 'minor project' the  
doctor was so obliquely referring to, he still feigned ignorance. It was just  
more interesting that way, and there was the added bonus that old Balkus wouldn't  
be able to connect him to anything even if by some chance his little project _was_  
discovered. His scientists knew better than to tell Balkus anything that he  
deemed inappropriate, after all.

"I wasn't aware that you still _had_ any minor projects,  
Doctor," Guyot said, pushing the plate that held his sandwich away so that  
he could rest his elbows on the table. Lacing his fingers together, Guyot rested  
his chin on them. "Very careless of you to lose track of it like that, don't  
you think?"

Balkus narrowed his eyes, as Guyot continued to smile almost-innocently at  
him.

"I did not 'lose track' of this particular project, Commander Guyot,"  
Balkus said, almost sounding offended that Guyot would even make that kind of  
suggestion. Guyot could have cared less. "As I told you, the data was all  
erased."

"Is there anything you can tell me about this particular 'minor  
project'? Then I might be able to inform you if I find out anything about  
it," Guyot said, wondering just how Balkus would react to his offer.

Balkus stared at Guyot, giving nothing away with his face or his eyes.  
"This projects specifics would not be of any interest to you,  
Commander."

"Then I suppose I can't tell you anything that would help, I'm  
afraid."

Balkus, giving him one last suspicious stare, got up and left the table  
without another word or a glance backward. As all the Zoanoids resumed their  
interrupted conversations and activities, Guyot smirked. Pulling his ignored  
plate back over within easy reach, Guyot also resumed his interrupted meal. It  
was only when he was almost finished with his lunch that Guyot found out  
something that would influence his plans for the rest of the afternoon.

Though most of the Sleeper Unit Zoanoids that had attacked the Guyvers and  
their little convoy in Takeshiro had been annihilated by Guyver III's  
Mega-Smasher, there were many more than Balkus had chosen to reveal in that  
particular battle. In fact, most of the adult male population of Takeshiro had  
been processed at this very facility. Guyot had been keeping a mental link to one  
of them open, just in case anything of interest started happening in the  
village.

Something that was most definitely of interest to Guyot was happening now. He  
could see one of the vehicles that the allies of the Guyvers traveled in. Not  
Murakami's annoying red sports car, since Guyot already knew that that thing  
had been destroyed in their last attempt to escape from Takeshiro, unfortunately  
not taking Guyver I with it. No, this was the older, uglier car that the woman  
who tended to stay with Guyver III drove.

All of the Guyvers and allies were gathered in this one vehicle. Finishing  
the rest of his meal, Guyot stood up and gathered the dishes and the remains of  
his sandwich wrapper. He could have simply called a Zoanoid to clean up the  
mess, but it would have probably entailed him having to telepathically direct  
said Zoanoid. It was simply more efficient to do this kind of thing himself.

Once he was finished with that chore, Guyot called a small group of Enzyme IIs  
over to where he was standing. They were newly processed, but that didn't  
matter since every Zoanoid who was not a Sleeper Unit would have been  
telepathically programmed with the knowledge of how best to use their abilities  
and new forms. Walking out of the cafeteria with the Enzyme IIs trailing behind  
him like obedient dogs, Guyot headed for the nearest elevator.

It would be a simple matter to delay the Guyvers until he arrived.

xXxXx

As they entered Takeshiro for the second and hopefully the last time, Masaki  
couldn't help wondering just where they would all be able to go to ground  
next. There was nowhere in the world that would be completely safe from Chronos,  
but there _were_ enclaves where Chronos' power was weaker. The Zoanoid  
models in the western hemisphere were significantly weaker than the ones that  
had been made over here in the east.

The North American Zoanoids were the weakest of all, and to top it off none  
of them had any of the special abilities that Masaki had seen in other Zoanoids  
that were developed over in this area. Hyper Zoanoids were in the minority, and  
there were places where they apparently hadn't even been developed yet. Some  
of his contacts in the ACF had been keeping him informed about the situation on  
the other side of the world.

There had been no plans as of yet to import the Zoanoid models that had been  
developed on this side of the world over to the other, that was a good thing as  
far as Masaki was concerned. There was only the small matter of being able to  
get over to that side of the Atlantic. Locating an airport would be their first  
challenge, and then there would be the actual escape from Chronos Japan's army  
of Zoanoids.

The ACF would probably be able to give them some cover while they were  
moving, but only if Masaki could get in contact with them. That would be a  
decent challenge, since their info-drop points changed every three days. It was  
a very good security precaution, but it could also be damned annoying those few  
times that Masaki wanted to contact them quickly. Like it was now.

The car's sudden deceleration nearly made Masaki slam his head into the row  
of seats in front of him. About to demand just what the hell was going on,  
Masaki's senses were inundated with the presence of Zoanoids. The mutant  
footsoldiers of the Chronos Corporation had surrounded the car, apparently while  
Masaki had been going over the limited options that were still open to their  
group.

The doors of the car were opened so fast that they were practically ripped  
off, allowing the three of them who had the power to fight against Chronos to  
pile out of the vehicle and so not endanger any of the occupants of the car any  
more than they would be forced to by the battle. Masaki brought out his Zoanoid  
Buster Custom, freshly reloaded. He had taken the time while they were all  
packing to restock the ammo-packs in his belt, as well.

He could hear Makashima calling for his Guyver unit, but oddly enough he didn't  
hear Sho doing the same. Then there was no more time for Masaki to think about  
what Sho was or wasn't doing, as a Ramochis lunged at him. One of his  
high-explosive hollow point shells caught it right between the eyes, blowing the  
thing's head off and scattering its brain matter over some of its fellows.

He could hear the sounds of explosive mayhem that indicated that Guyver III  
was also making his way through the fight. Turning to look over his shoulder,  
Masaki saw that Sho was just standing there, an expression of mixed sadness and  
horror on his face as the Zoanoids attacked. Masaki charged over to where Sho  
stood, shooting a pair of Zoanoids who were unfortunate enough to be in his way.

It was kind of aggravating, the way that Sho wouldn't just accept the fact  
that the creatures he was facing – while they might have been human at one  
point – were the enemy and needed to be killed if any of his friends were  
going to survive. Reloading his gun with speed developed over long experience,  
Masaki finally managed to make it over to Sho's side.

"What are you doing, Sho? Why haven't you called your Guyver armor  
yet?"

"Mr. Murakami," Sho turned haunted eyes to look straight at Masaki.  
"I don't think I can. Not… not after what happened last time. These are  
all innocent people here, they never asked to be a part of this," Sho  
looked out over the army of Zoanoids bearing down on them. "This is all  
just like what happened to my father."


	11. Trapped

"These people aren't human, Sho. At least not anymore," Masaki  
said, not unkindly. "You have to understand that these things will kill you  
or anyone else without mercy if you give them the chance."

Makashima seemed to understand that Sho wasn't at his best right now, and  
so was covering for the two of them as Masaki attempted to talk some sense into  
Sho. Masaki was grateful to Makashima for his understanding.

"Would you really want to have the deaths of Mizuki or Tetsuro on your  
conscience, Sho?"

"No... But I…"

"Good," Masaki said, cutting the boy off before he could find  
anything else to say. "If you want to save their lives, you're going to  
have to fight. I'll help you. But you have to remember that I won't be  
around forever."

Sho looked confused when Masaki said that to him, but he wasn't about to  
explain to the boy what he had really meant when he said that. Sho was a good  
kid, maybe a little _too_ good at times; and if Sho found out what kind of  
secrets Masaki was keeping, the consequences would be unpleasant. Seeing another  
Zoanoid that was trying to move into position to attack them, Masaki vaulted  
over Sho's left shoulder and fired directly into the head of their attacker.

The Gregole's head blew apart in a messy eruption of bone, cranial fluid,  
and brain matter. Looking around, just in case another Zoanoid decided to try  
something, Masaki turned his gaze back to Sho once he was sure that Guyver III  
would be able to handle any other Zoanoids that tried to come after the two of  
them.

"You have to make your choice now, Sho," Masaki said, turning away  
from the boy and bringing his attention back to the battle at hand. Masaki heard  
Sho call for his Guyver, and a small smile worked its way onto his face. There  
were some times when Sho could be too good for his own health, but the kid would  
still listen to reason if he was given the chance.

Reloading his emptied weapon, Masaki watched as Sho cut down a charging pair  
of Vamore with his Vibration Blades. Diving out of the reach of another slash  
from a Broyze, Masaki shot the Zoanoid in the chest. Not even looking at the  
disintegrating corpse of his opponent, Masaki ducked under the claws of another  
Gregole as they were thrust at his face. The Gregole ended up with a  
high-explosive shell right between the eyes for its trouble.

Between Guyver I, Masaki himself, and Guyver III, the hoard of Zoanoids  
surrounding the car was being thinned down considerably. But more Zoanoids were  
coming quickly from other areas to fill in the ranks of those that had been  
killed, and Masaki knew that in spite of the power that the three of them  
possessed, not even two Guyvers and a Proto-Zoalord would be able to hold out  
for very long against an army that constantly replenished itself.

Absorbed as they all were in the battle, it wasn't until they managed to  
clear out all the space around the car that the three combatants noticed that  
the remaining Zoanoids were backing slowly away. It was only then, with nothing  
else to occupy their full concentration, that the sound of lazy clapping managed  
to catch their attention.

Leaning with the utmost casualness against a still-standing streetlight, dark  
coal-gray suit jacket moving slightly in the soft breeze, stood Commander Guyot.  
The Twelfth Zoalord was even carelessly applauding the wholesale slaughter of  
the Zoanoids that he had doubtless been the one to sic on them in the first  
place.

"An excellent show, gentlemen," Guyot smiled with enough mocking  
sincerity to make Masaki want to rip out his tongue and shove it up his ass.  
"Very entertaining."

"We're not here to entertain _you_, Guyot," Guyver III  
snapped.

"Ah, Agito Makashima," Guyot said, grinning at the Dark Guyver.  
"I was wondering if you would have the gall to show your face again."

"You're a fine one to talk about gall, with what you're  
planning," Guyver III shot back.

"And you would know _so_ much about what I'm planning," Guyot  
drawled.

"I know enough."

"Or so you think," Guyot said pointedly, then turned away from  
Makashima and apparently dismissed the Dark Guyver from his thoughts. "By  
the way Murakami," Guyot grinned in a particularly sadistic manner.  
"How's your son?"

"You _motherfucker_! You were the one!"

"Language, Murakami," Guyot wagged a finger at him. "There _are_  
children present, after all."

Almost before he could think about what he was doing, Masaki had brought his  
Zoanoid Buster Custom back up, sighted down the length of the barrel, and fired  
three shots in rapid succession. The light of the explosions momentarily blocked  
Guyot from their sight, but Masaki wasn't stupid enough to hope that a weapon  
designed to work on Zoanoids would have any effect on a Zoalord like Guyot.

Sure enough, when the residuals from the explosions had had a chance to  
finally clear, they revealed the completely unharmed form of the Twelfth  
Zoalord. Guyot's right hand, palm up, fingers splayed, was held out in front of  
him and Masaki could see the slight distortion in the air made by Guyot's  
forcefield.

"Now really Murakami, did you honestly think that such a little thing  
would be enough to damage someone like me?" Guyot looked at Masaki like a  
teacher trying to instruct a particularly slow and stubborn pupil. "I must  
say, I'm rather disappointed in you. I really did expect better."

By this time, all that Masaki wanted to do was to rush at Guyot, grab the 'man'  
around the neck, and squeeze until he crushed Guyot's throat. Blinking to clear  
the murderous red haze that had been creeping into the edges of his vision,  
Masaki knew that that was just what Guyot had been intending to do: provoke him.  
By now, both Guyot and Balkus had to know just what he was.

More than that, they were no doubt aware that he was nearing the end of his  
intended lifespan. Masaki wasn't sure just how many more transformations that  
his body could withstand, but he was sure that it was a very low number. Two  
more at least, maybe three at the very most, but that was an incredibly  
optimistic estimate, Masaki was sure. It was best not to take those kind of  
chances.

"What? Nothing to say?" Guyot asked with mocking innocence.

"Fuck you," Masaki growled.

"Such disrespect," Guyot tisked. "Did you kiss your son with  
that mouth?"

That was the last straw. With an inarticulate cry, Masaki launched himself at  
Guyot, right fist extended and aimed directly between the Zoalord's eyes. But,  
even with as fast as Masaki was now, Guyot still had the advantage on him. Guyot's  
own right hand came up faster than even Masaki could see. Catching Masaki's  
fist in his own slightly larger hand, Guyot shrugged off the impact of the man's  
punch in a way few other people would have been able to do.

Pivoting on the heel of his left foot, Guyot threw Masaki aside like he was a  
rag doll. Kicking with enough force, Masaki managed to turn himself over in  
midair and land on his feet. The last of the Zoanoids that had been running  
interference for Guyot was cut down by Guyver III's Vibration Blades, and the  
two Guyvers quickly joined the battle. Dodging a high-kick from Guyver I, Guyot stiff-armed a charging Guyver III in the chest, before turning and punching  
Guyver I in the gut.

Masaki, who had been reloading his weapon from the moment his feet had again  
made contact with solid ground, turned and fired into the chest of an advancing  
Ramochis. The Guyvers were circling around Guyot now; looking for any openings  
the Zoalord might leave in his defense. Masaki knew Guyot better than to think  
that he would give the Guyvers _any_ opportunities to attack. They would  
have to make their own.

Looking around, making sure that no other Zoanoids were moving into position  
to attack or if they were that he would be ready for them, Masaki turned back to  
observe the battle with Guyot. Guyver III seemed to be doing the most damage, not  
that that was saying very much, while Guyver I ran interference for him. Guyot seemed mostly amused by this, a fact that Masaki wasn't pleased with at all.


	12. Contemplation

Looking into the clear, green-tinged fluid of the processing-tank, Dr.  
Halverson shuddered slightly. He could tell that the artificial maturation was  
going just as planned, even without the instruments to record the changes since  
the doctor was now able to confirm that fact visually. The kid now had the  
physical features and developmental level of a thirteen-year-old as opposed to  
someone of the boy's own original age. It _was_ an interesting thing to  
watch, and Dr. Halverson had thus far managed to detach himself emotionally from  
what he was actually doing to the kid.

The only thing the doctor was currently worried about was the fact that one  
of the scientists who worked for Dr. Balkus would happen to notice that this  
processing-tank was being more closely monitored then the rest of them. It  
wouldn't take much forethought on their part to realize that there was  
something out of the ordinary going on here. In fact, all they would have to do  
if they wanted to find out about the project was to check the records in this  
terminal's database.

Dr. Henderson, who knew more about computers than Halverson himself, had said  
to leave the matter of the main database to him. But that didn't solve the  
more immediate problem that Halverson faced from the doctors who were loyal to  
Dr. Balkus. Just one of them could undo most or all of what Halverson was doing  
here. One word about the kid leaking to Balkus would be enough to get him in  
very serious trouble. In fact, both his life and that of the kid were now in an  
equal amount of danger.

Halverson knew that Guyot would execute him, probably in the most painful  
manner the old Zoalord could think of, if he got word of Balkus knowing about  
the kid, or of Guyot's plans for him for that matter. And the kid, well, with  
how dependent his body was on the chemical solution Halverson had prepared for  
him; any withdrawal or change would prove fatal in a matter of time.

It was like that with all the people that Chronos processed. With the  
mutigenic fluid permeating their tissues and by extension eventually their  
internal organs, and the physical and genetic changes it forced their cells to  
undergo, it was no surprise to any of the scientists that worked in Chronos that  
the human body became dependent on it after a time. The real challenge for the  
processing technicians like Halverson and his colleagues was to slowly and  
gently wean the people off the fluid so that their bodies would no longer need  
it.

He had heard reports that, before it had been accepted practice to have newly  
hired techs train under their predecessors, there had been a lot of people  
killed by inexperienced young scientists who had made those kinds of changes  
without bothering to see if their Zoanoids were at the right stage of  
development to survive them. Dr. Halverson took a reasonable amount of pride in  
the fact that he knew enough not to make any of those kinds of mistakes.

But still, doing this kind of thing to someone who wasn't yet at their peak  
of physical development made things that much more difficult. The scientist in  
Halverson was exhilarated by the challenge, and Dr. Halverson had to remind  
himself constantly of just this kind of scientific exhilaration whenever his  
conscience started to trouble him. That had been happening less and less of  
late, something that Dr. Halverson was very grateful for.

It _could_ be somewhat troubling at times, that feeling that he was  
becoming less and less human as time went on, but humanity wasn't something  
that was highly valued in Chronos. Turning his attention back to his work, Dr.  
Halverson was unaware that he was being observed. In fact, the only time that  
Halverson noticed the person standing next to him was when they laid a hand on  
his right shoulder.

"Aah!" Turning suddenly to face the man now standing beside him,  
Halverson was relieved to see the familiar face of Dr. Sanderson.

"Nice, Ed. You don't look like a man who has _anything_ to  
hide," Sanderson said with biting sarcasm.

"You startled me."

"I imagine so. After all, I could have just as easily been someone else.  
Here, I thought you might be hungry."

With that, Dr. Sanderson handed a large sandwich over to his fellow scientist  
and processing technician. Dr. Halverson was very grateful for this  
consideration, since he had just started trying to figure out how he would be  
able to go and have lunch without being certain if the project was going to be  
safe from prying eyes for even that small amount of time. Eating his sandwich  
while at the same time being scrupulously careful not to drop crumbs on the  
monitoring console, Dr. Halverson finished in a much shorter time than he would  
have had he gone to the cafeteria.

"So, what's the status of our little project?"

"As you can see, it's not quite so little anymore," Dr. Halverson  
said, waving his hand at the figure suspended in the processing fluid.

"Yes, I noticed that, too. Good work."

"I think Commander Guyot would be pleased if he could see this." _At  
least I certainly hope so,_ Halverson added silently. "For that matter,  
where is the Commander? I haven't gotten any requests for a progress report as  
yet."

"You were probably too busy to check up on what's been going on  
outside the base," Dr. Sanderson commented, stating the obvious with  
remarkable aplomb.

"Right. I haven't left my post since I was assigned here."

"Good. That's very dedicated of you. I, however, was up in the  
Information Control Sector. It turns out that the Guyvers and their group are  
trying to escape through Takeshiro again."

"Through Takeshiro? Even after what happened to them all last  
time?"

"Apparently so," Dr. Sanderson said, nodding. "Anyway, the  
reason that the Commander hasn't yet showed up to demand a progress report  
from you is because he's gone out to fight the Guyvers himself."

"What?"

"Yes. And get this: the test subject has showed up as well."

"Commander Guyot's prototype?" Halverson asked, incredulous.  
Halverson knew that the test subject had a name, but it was of no concern to  
him. "How could he have even survived this long?"

"He seems to be determined to live for as long as he can,"  
Sanderson said. "He also seems to have some help that we know very little  
about."

"You're referring to that weapon that he always carries around,"  
Halverson said. "The one that has the power to actually penetrate the skins  
of our Zoanoids, despite the fact that all of them have been specifically  
engineered to be resistant to any kind of weapon that has been made."

"Yes, that's the one," Sanderson said. "I've suggested  
numerous times that what we really need to be doing is finding out just what  
group of people that this errant test subject has been in regular contact with,  
but so far it has proved impossible to keep a watch on him. As you know, he can  
sense the presence of Zoanoids."

"I know, because he himself is a Zoalord prototype. It was very careless  
of them over at Chronos Arizona not to make sure that all of the test subjects  
that had been used in the making of Commander Guyot's Zoalord body were all  
really killed."

"It would be better if you keep that opinion to yourself when Dr. Balkus  
is around, he was the one who oversaw the disposal of three of the four  
prototypes. If you remember, Balkus first thought that he had gotten rid of all  
of them."

"Yes, I know," Halverson nodded. "It wasn't until the first  
of the sabotages and attacks started happening that he realized that he had made  
a mistake."

"Yes, and we all know just how touchy the old doctor can get about  
making mistakes," Sanderson smirked.

"Yes," Halverson grinned. "He seems to think that than kind of  
thing is beneath him. It must have something to do with how old he is. I don't  
think he's caught on to the fact that everyone makes some mistakes somewhere  
in their life."

"Don't tell that to Dr. Balkus," Sanderson said, smirking.

"I'm not feeling particularly suicidal today," Halverson said,  
smiling back.


	13. Overpowered

Guyver III, pulling himself out of the mass of rubble that had once been the  
wall of a building, shook his head to clear out the remaining cobwebs. He had  
known on an intellectual level that Guyot was one of the elites of the Chronos  
Corporation, but Guyver III hadn't really expected him to be able to punch  
that hard. Hearing Fukamachi's screams, Guyver III turned his attention back  
to Guyot.

Somehow, Guyot had managed to wrap his arms around Guyver I's midsection,  
and was now slowly but steadily attempting to crush the life out of him.  
Fukamachi's arms were pinned to his sides, cutting off his ability to make use  
of the Vibration Blades or the Pressure Cannon. His legs and head were still  
free though, and for a moment Guyver III wondered why Guyver I didn't think to  
use the Head Beam or the Sonic Buster.

__

_He must be in too much pain to think coherently,_ Guyver III realized, as  
Guyver I's screams became more pronounced. Standing up and charging the  
Pressure Cannon, Guyver III was surprised enough to almost lose his  
concentration when a car went crashing into Guyot's back, causing him to let go  
of Guyver I. Looking back along the car's trajectory, Guyver III caught sight  
of Murakami, just lifting another car to throw.

__

_Impressive, _Guyver III allowed._ Murakami has the strength of a Guyver._  
Evidently, Guyot also saw that he had another problem to deal with, and he didn't  
seem so impressed by Murakami's strength.

"You are really starting to annoy me, Murakami," Guyot growled.

"Good, that's what I was going for," Murakami said, throwing the  
car at Guyot's head.

As Murakami's thrown car impacted with Guyot, Guyver III fired the Pressure  
Cannon at the Twelfth Zoalord. In the midst of both blast and impact, Guyot's  
form was momentarily obscured. Looking over at Murakami, Guyver III saw the man's  
lips thin slightly, and he knew then that Guyot would still be standing when the  
shrapnel had settled. A slight glow in the air was all the warning Guyver III,  
Murakami and Guyver I had.

The very air seemed to rip itself apart, as a violent wave of pressure ripped  
into the surrounding area. Guyver III saw Guyver I throw himself to the ground  
to avoid the onslaught, and watched Murakami kneel down and cover his face even  
as he himself crouched and braced himself with all the strength he possessed.  
The waves of compressed air battered the three combatants like solid objects,  
nearly knocking him and Murakami sprawling despite their positions.

Finally though, it was over. Breathing deeply to try to regain his  
equilibrium, Guyver III rose to his feet again.

"So, you survived," Guyot sounded, if anything, mildly disappointed.  
"I suppose that being Guyvers confers certain advantages to you pitiful  
little maggots."

With that said, Guyot turned and fired some kind of high-energy blast straight  
at the car. The same one that all of the others were still inside. Guyver III  
could have predicted Fukamachi's reactions to the letter: with a shouted  
denial, Guyver I threw himself forward to intercept Guyot's blast. Taking the  
impact directly in his chest, Guyver I ended up laying flat on his back in the  
street, with his head half-in-half-out of the car. _Idiot,_ Guyver III  
thought derisively.

When he had seen Guyot fire that blast, Sho hadn't had time to think. He had  
just reacted. Tetsuro and Mizuki were both in that car, as well as all of the  
other people who had helped him and Agito to survive and to fight against  
Chronos. When Guyot's blast had smashed into his chest, Sho had felt like his  
ribs would all shatter under the pressure, or that his armor would be torn off  
by the blast, or maybe both at once.

When the crushing force had finally abated, Sho had found himself staring up  
at Mizuki. As his vision cleared further, Sho had found himself also staring up  
at the ceiling of Onuma's car.

"Sho! Are you all right?" Mizuki asked, looking into the strange,  
alien face of Guyver I that was staring up at her.

"You'd better get up, Sho," Tetsuro said, trying to be practical.  
"I don't think Guyot's going to keep ignoring you forever."

Pulling himself back to his feet, Sho looked back at the battlefield. Sure  
enough, if it hadn't been for Agito and Mr. Murakami attacking him, Sho was  
sure that Guyot would be trying to finish what he had started. Taking one last  
look back at the car, Sho noticed that the door had been opened. Looking at  
where Sho's gaze was fixed, Tetsuro had to chuckle.

"Well Sho, it was either open that door, or have you end up with your  
head stuck _through_ it. I didn't think you'd like that very  
much."

Hearing Tetsuro say that, Sho had to laugh, too. His mirth was short-lived  
however, when he saw Guyver III go sprawling, caught by one of Guyot's punches.

__

_+What are you waiting for, Fukamachi?!+ _Agito demanded over their  
Guyver-link. _+Get over here and help me!+_

_+I'll be right there, Agito,+_ Sho said.

Suiting actions to words, Sho ran back into the battle. Mr. Murakami was now  
engaged in a kind of wrestling match with Guyot, and Guyot seemed more amused than  
anything. Probably because Mr. Murakami was losing pretty badly.

__

_-Kneel before your better, you worthless little guinea pig!-_ Guyot taunted  
telepathically.

__

_-Never!-_ Masaki spat, gritting his teeth and trying to stay on his feet  
despite the crushing pressure on his hands and in his knees.

Masaki had jumped in and started grappling with Guyot just after Sho had taken  
Guyot's Gravity Bullet directly in his chest. Masaki knew for a fact that Guyot  
would have taken advantage of Sho's position if the old Zoalord hadn't had  
something to occupy his attention. After Guyver III had been knocked away by  
just _one_ of Guyot's attacks, Masaki knew that that something would have  
to be him.

And now here he was, feeling like all the bones in his hands were about to  
give way under the enormous pressure that Guyot was applying to them. Guyot even  
had the nerve to be smirking at him as the grappled. Or at least he was, until  
Guyver III's kick plowed into his head.

"You!" Guyot shouted, enraged.

Letting go of Masaki, Guyot tossed him aside like a rag doll. Shaking his head  
to try to regain at least some of his lost equilibrium, Masaki rose to his feet  
and attempted to push aside the lingering pain in his hands. Flexing his fingers  
to make sure that he hadn't lost any mobility, Masaki drew and fired his  
weapon at a Zoanoid that had stupidly attempted to blindside him. Guyver III was  
now engaging Guyot, firing blasts from the Head Beam and Pressure Cannon at  
seemingly random intervals.

Masaki was glad of the reprieve.


	14. Hunted

Deep in the lower levels of Mt. Minakami, Dr. Hamilcal Balkus was considering  
the merits of resurrecting the Hyper Zoanoid Team Five again. True, they had all  
been slaughtered in the battle at Chronos Japan's secondary headquarters, but  
that had never been the only Team Five in existence. The original members of the  
second Hyper Zoanoid Team Five had been created to fight against that accursed  
Zoalord Prototype, Murakami.

They were also very useful in and of themselves, since the five of them were  
extremely loyal to one another and all of them were intelligent to varying  
degrees. In fact, the new Team Five had replaced the old one with complete  
success by this time. In the end, there was really only one way to best serve  
the interests of Chronos. Inputting a command on the computer console that stood  
in front of him, Balkus watched as the five processing-tanks in front of him  
were drained of their fluid.

Once they were fully empty, the tanks themselves retracted back into the  
ceiling. Zancrus was the first to open his eyes, but the other members of Team  
Five were soon awake and stirring as well.

"What are your orders, Dr. Balkus?" Zektor asked, cutting straight  
to the point as usual.

"You five are to go and retrieve Aptom. He had been sent after Guyver I  
to eliminate him, but has not reported in at all since then. I want that  
arrogant Lost Number _dragged_ back here if necessary!" Balkus hissed,  
trying to control his temper.

It was not Team Five who annoyed him, but Aptom, who he could no longer sense  
even _with_ his supremely developed telepathy.

"Don't worry, doc," Zancrus said, grinning at Balkus with  
admirable self-confidence. "We'll drag him back here by his hair if you  
want us to."

"I do not think that that will be necessary, Zancrus," Balkus said,  
smiling and chuckling softly.

"When do we leave, Dr. Balkus?" Darzerb inquired.

"After all of you get dressed," Balkus said.

Darzerb had a brilliant mind when it came to tactics or large-scale analysis,  
but at times he did tend to overlook the obvious. Of course, Elegen and Gaster  
made up for that deficiency with their tendency to focus on the details. All in  
all, Team Five was both physically and mentally well suited for one another.  
Zektor nodded to Balkus, and he and the rest of Team Five filed out of the room.

__

_Well, that's one less problem I have to deal with,_ Balkus mused. _Team  
Five can handle things with that Lost Number on their own._ Turning away from  
the processing-tanks as they settled themselves back on their bases, Balkus  
considered his other problem. It had been increasingly obvious of late that  
Commander Guyot was up to something. This latest incident with the monitoring of  
that child in the forest was just more proof that Guyot had his own agenda.

Contrary to what Guyot himself believed, Balkus was not the senile old fool  
that he pretended to be sometimes for the Twelfth Zoalord's benefit. He knew  
that Guyot was hiding something, something more than most of the other Zoalords  
who served Alkanphel. It was not just the personal thoughts and desires that all  
Zoalords kept from one another as a matter of personal privacy.

No, this was something more, and something undoubtedly much more dangerous to  
Alkanphel's cause if Guyot was trying to hide it this deeply. Balkus had known  
for some time that Guyot was extremely ambitious, had known it even since before  
Guyot had even become the Twelfth Zoalord. The man he had been, Reichman Wilhelm,  
had also been very ambitious. Reichman had almost literally jumped at the chance  
to become a Zoalord.

Alkanphel had been wary of humans like Reichman Wilhelm, but Alkanphel had  
also accepted the fact that there were not many humans who possessed the  
strength of mind and body to become Zoalords without the less than desirable  
tendencies like the man Wilhelm had had. As he thought further on the matter of  
what Guyot might have planned, Balkus came upon yet another set of  
processing-tanks that held clones of the Hyper Zoanoid Team Five.

Their mental patterns had already been established, and bodies were an easy  
thing to create with Chronos' superior bioengineering technology. Turning away  
from the clones of Team Five, Balkus headed back up to the Information Control  
Sector. He already knew where Commander Guyot was, of course, but watching the  
way he fought the Guyvers and that prototype of his would perhaps provide some  
useful information.

Stepping inside one of the many elevators that ran between the surface and  
the lower levels of Mt. Minakami, Balkus looked out over the armies of Zoanoids  
that he could see being prepared to take their places within Chronos' ranks.  
This was the goal that he and Alkanphel had worked so long and hard to achieve:  
the army that would protect this world from the inevitable return of the  
Advents.

Frowning, Balkus reflected that if the Guyvers and their little rebel group  
could know of Chronos' true intentions, then perhaps they could be persuaded  
to aid rather than oppose the company. With what the organization had done to  
Murakami and Fukamachi, it might be somewhat harder for the two of them to come  
to such a decision, though. But sometimes some things just had to be put aside  
in pursuit of a larger goal.

This was the truth that Balkus had learned over his many long years of life.  
And with the power of those two Guyvers, the Advents would have an even harder  
time of trying to reclaim this planet from its rightful owners. _But Lisker  
once made the offer to Guyver I, I heard, and Fukamachi refused it. Though  
perhaps, there is another way…_ Balkus had seen secondhand just how  
protective the Fukamachi boy was of those that managed to get close to him.

Balkus thought of such things as a ridiculous weakness, and even more so now  
that he had seen the kinds of things that the Fukamachi boy would put himself  
through. Guyver I had nearly gotten himself killed in Team Five's attack on  
his school, transforming and going out to fight for people he only knew  
distantly. At least Guyver III had more sense than that, and the boy seemed far  
more intelligent in other ways, also.

Perhaps it would be better to concentrate on the elimination of Sho Fukamachi  
and Masaki Murakami, and then to deal with Agito Makashima later.

XxXxX

It wasn't true… it just couldn't be happening. But it was. And it  
wouldn't stop.

Zancrus was whistling again.

"Zancrus, shut up," Zektor ordered for what felt like the seventh  
time in as many minutes.

His fellow Hyper Zoanoid blew a raspberry at him, but did as he was told.  
Zektor wondered just how long that would last _this_ time. Not very long as  
it turned out, since Zancrus started up again not long after Zektor had managed  
to get used to just the sounds of Team Five's footfalls again. Flipping a  
pinecone – or something that looked a lot like one – into his hand with his  
left foot, Zektor considered whether or not to pitch it at Zancrus' head.

His momentary dilemma was resolved when Gaster, obviously getting fed up with  
Zancrus' antics as well, stopped walking suddenly. Zancrus crashed into Gaster's  
back with an audible _thump_ and a soft _ooof_. Zektor chuckled low in  
his throat as Zancrus made a show of dusting himself off and checking for any  
injuries.

"What the hell was that for?" Zancrus demanded, though his voice  
lacked any real malice.

"What do you think it was for, you mantis-faced loony?"

"Oh, so now I'm a loony, am I?"

Before Gaster, Zancrus, or anyone else could come up with a suitable retort,  
Darzerb grabbed both Zancrus and Gaster by their necks and hoisted them up till  
their feet left the ground.

"Calm down you two. Remember what we were sent out here to do," the  
large Hyper Zoanoid said, looking at both of his smaller teammates in turn.

"We're here to kick Aptom's butt and drink beer," Elegen piped  
up. "And, since we don't seem to have any beer at the moment, I guess  
that just leaves us with the butt kicking."

"Elegen, you talk too much," Zektor said affectionately, while  
Darzerb set Zancrus and Gaster back on the ground.

"Or maybe it's just that Darzerb and Gaster don't talk enough,"  
Elegen said, grinning.

Darzerb shook his head, and Gaster flipped Elegen off when Zektor looked away  
for a second. Something wasn't right. Despite the fact that they hadn't seen  
any evidence that the Guyvers or Aptom had passed this way, Zektor was starting  
to feel more and more uneasy. What made the feeling even worse was the fact that  
there wasn't anything in the surrounding environment that would even suggest  
that there was any reason for him to be feeling this way.

It wasn't as if Zektor possessed any extraordinary senses, like Dr. Balkus  
or Commander Guyot. He couldn't even feel subtle vibrations in the air, the way  
that Zancrus could when he was in his Hyper Zoanoid form. The trees were moving  
slightly, but even that could be explained away by the strong breeze that Zektor  
could feel blowing across his skin. It was Elegen's strong voice that broke  
the silence, like Zektor had almost been expecting, but what he said wasn't at  
all what Zektor would have expected.

"All right, which one of you just threw a pinecone at me?!"


	15. Ambush

"What are you talking about?" Zektor heard Zancrus ask.

"One of you just bounced a _pinecone _off the back of my  
skull," Elegen growled.

"None of us are walking behind you, ThunderButt," Zancrus shot  
back. "Stop being so dramatic."

"Oww!"

Zektor whipped his head around, having heard Gaster's cry of mixed  
annoyance and pain.

"What happened?" Zektor demanded.

"Someone just threw a rock at me," Gaster said, looking out into  
the trees.

"Whoever it is, when I find them I'm going to give them the shock of a  
lifetime," Elegen promised grimly.

There was a bright blast of electricity that obscured Elegen's form for a  
full minute, and when it cleared he stood there in his huge, tall,  
purple-and-white Hyper Zoanoid form. "All right you joker, come out here  
and get what's coming to you!"

A burst of insane giggling came from the trees above them. It took Zektor a  
few moments to recognize the voice from the memories that Dr. Balkus had thought  
to give him, but when he did, all that Zektor could do was hope that he had  
thought wrong. To hope that whoever was up in those trees, they weren't the  
one that Zektor had thought that they were. Elegen, however, didn't seem to  
care about whoever or whatever was up there in the trees. Like he often did when  
he was that angry, Elegen wasn't stopping to think.

Once Elegen was standing under the tree, _something_ dropped out from  
under the cover of the leafy branches and landed on him. In the somewhat limited  
light under the trees, Zektor couldn't make out just who or what had landed on  
Elegen, but it was obvious from the way that Elegen had started thrashing that  
he wanted it _off_.

"Let go, damn you! Let go of me!"

As Elegen attempted to either throw off or smash the thing that was clinging  
to him, he felt something start to dig into his back. _What the hell?! What is  
this guy doing to me?!_ He knew then that this was no ordinary thing he was  
dealing with. The hands on his back had felt human, even up to the point where  
they had started digging into his skin. But Elegen knew that that didn't mean  
anything, hell, _Zektor's_ hands felt human when he was in human form.

As the maybe-Zoanoid's hands dug deeper into his flesh, Elegen started to  
feel a very unsettling sensation. It was as if his body somehow wasn't quite  
his anymore, as if something else was taking over. It didn't feel anything  
like when Dr. Balkus would control his mind or give him orders telepathically.  
Elegen still had full control over his mind. His body though, well that was a  
different matter.

It felt like his left arm was going numb, and the feeling was working its way  
down from his shoulder and…_ What the hell am I doing analyzing it when  
someone or something is trying to take over my body, and… oh God, I feel like  
I'm dying! _The arm that had been wrapped around his neck from behind had  
now started to sink into his collarbone. Elegen hadn't thought that it was  
even _possible_ for bone to sink through bone, but apparently he'd been  
wrong about that.

That was when he started to hear the voice. _Two_ voices actually, but  
only one of which Elegen _wanted_ to hear inside his head.

__

_-You! Who the hell are you?!-_

__

_-You mean you don't recognize me?-_ asked the new voice with mocking  
sincerity. _-Aw, I'm hurt.-_

__

_-Aptom! How did you do this?! I order you to detach yourself from Elegen,  
now!-_

Aptom started laughing. Then, in a voice that sounded like a really good  
impression of one of those telephone operators, he responded. _-I'm sorry,  
the Hyper Zoanoid who would have taken your orders without question is no longer  
in residence.-_

__

_-What?!-_

__

_-I mean I'm not a Hyper Zoanoid anymore,-_ Aptom said, with very obvious  
satisfaction. _-Hell, with all you ended up doing to me, I really don't  
think I'm even a Standard Zoanoid anymore. I guess I really should thank you  
for not paying too much attention to what your little reprocessing experiments  
were doing to my physiology.-_

__

_-You mean that I…-_

__

_-Was the one that did this?-_ Aptom finished Dr. Balkus' sentence, and  
from his tone it was obvious that he was wearing a very wide grin right now. _-Oh  
yeah, "doctor". You did it all. You just thought of me as an  
expendable target for the Guyvers to pick off with their weapons, right? Well  
guess what: this little "target" isn't going to be playing by your  
rules anymore. This is a whole new game!- _Aptom laughed again. _-And don't  
think you're going to be on the winning side anymore, because I'm changing  
the rules.-_

__

_-What?!-_

__

_-And don't bother trying to track me down with your telepathy. I think you  
might have already noticed that that doesn't work,-_ Aptom laughed.

__

_-Elegen, blast this traitor! Throw him off with an electric shock!-_

Elegen tried, he really did, but he couldn't even move one of his  
tentacles, and the most he could manage was a feeble crackling of static  
electricity. Aptom laughed, insane and triumphant.

__

_-Oh, come on. Did you really think that would work? Elegen's body is  
practically mine now. And that means that all his powers are mine as well,-_  
Aptom sneered.

"Zektor…! Help me…!" Elegen called weakly, his eyesight  
beginning to fade.

__

_-In fact,-_ Aptom said, apparently ignoring Elegen's voice. _-The only  
reason you're able to communicate with me is because I'm using Elegen here  
as a transmitter. Among other things.-_

__

_-What do you mean?-_ Dr. Balkus demanded.

__

_-My original body was blasted to pieces by Guyver I,-_ Aptom informed  
them, and the bastard actually sounded gleeful about it. _-I think Elegen here  
would make a good substitute, don't you agree?-_

The only thing Elegen heard from Dr. Balkus was an inarticulate growl. His  
eyesight was almost totally gone by now, and Elegen couldn't help wondering  
what was going to happen to him once Aptom had fully absorbed his body. By now  
Elegen was completely blind, and he felt as if someone had filled his throat  
with hot blood; his own. _Zektor, I'm sorry. You'll have to learn to get  
along without me. I'm sure you will, though. You're a stronger person than  
you give yourself credit for sometimes, Zektor. Goodbye… Zektor…  
_


	16. Pursuit

As the last of Elegen's former body became his, Aptom smirked at the  
remaining members of Team Five, all of whom were looking at him with varying  
degrees of horror. Zektor was the first to regain use of his voice.

"How dare you murder Elegen! I'll rip you apart with my bare  
hands!"

"Oh, he's not dead, he's just… me, Mr. Zektor," Aptom mocked.  
"As for the bare hands part," Aptom licked his lips. "I would _love_  
to see you try."

The remainder of Team Five transformed, almost before Aptom had finished  
speaking. Gaster and Darzerb went right, while Zancrus and Zektor ran to Aptom's  
left. It was a fairly well reasoned strategy, what with having a good balance of  
speed and raw physical power on both teams, but Aptom wasn't going to lose to  
Team Five. He had taken far more than his share of shit from all of the Hyper  
Zoanoids, but since Team Five were the ones standing in front of him, they were  
the ones who had to reap the whirlwind first.

Rolling out of the way of a missile barrage from Gaster, Aptom launched  
himself into a backwards cartwheel to evade a shot from Zektor's  
forearm-lasers. Zancrus, who was apparently just getting himself ready for a  
charge, was completely unprepared when Aptom charged at _him_. Grabbing  
hold of the left pair of antennae that stuck out of the sides of Zancrus'  
head, Aptom pulled the Hyper Zoanoid over to him.

Wrapping his arm around Zancrus' neck, Aptom started to absorb the Hyper  
Zoanoid. Zancrus would be as useful as Elegen, and Aptom was still hungry. Those  
were good enough reasons to have a meal as far as Aptom was concerned. When the  
remaining three had finally noticed Zancrus screaming, it was just a little too  
late for them to do anything about it. As Zancrus was forced to join Elegen as a  
part of Aptom's composite body, Aptom had to jump out of the way of yet  
another one of Gaster's missile barrages.

"I won't let you take Zancrus the way you took Elegen!" Gaster  
shouted, enraged. "I'll kill you first!"

Laughing, Aptom slapped Gaster in the face with Elegen's tentacles. Then,  
adding injury to insult, Aptom unleashed 3,100 volts directly into Gaster's  
face. Gaster's screams were like music to Aptom, and with Zancrus' own cries  
now fading away as he became a part of Aptom's body, they were also the only  
thing that currently amused him. The last of Zancrus' body being fully  
absorbed by this time, Aptom bio-morphed his hands from Elegen's purple,  
human-standard hands into Zancrus' deadly Vibration Blades.

Laughing madly, Aptom charged back into the thick of the fight. Aptom was  
getting bored now, so he knew that he would have to make these last shots count.  
Kicking a charging Darzerb in the face, Aptom ran through another one of Gaster's  
missile barrages, using Zancrus' superior speed so that he came through  
without a scratch. Turning to look back at the trees, Aptom finally decided to  
leave the remains of Team Five to do… whatever they would do once he left.

"So sorry to eat and run!" Aptom taunted, running at Gaster and  
using the Hyper Zoanoid's face as a springboard to launch himself over behind  
Team Five. "But I have so many more entertaining things to do today. Bye  
now!"

And, laughing triumphantly, Aptom sprinted off into the trees.

Zektor was enraged. No, scratch that, he was so far beyond 'enraged' that  
he was fairly sure that he was in all new territories of anger by now. Not only  
had Aptom devoured both Elegen and Zancrus alive, taking so much obvious  
pleasure in the act that it made Zektor's blood boil, but he had then had the  
nerve to use their powers to attack the rest of his friends. Not only that, but  
the friendship that he and Elegen had shared had been… special.

It was for all those reasons that Zektor was going to hunt down Aptom, kill  
the rogue Lost Unit in the bloodiest, most painful way possible, and drag his  
corpse back to Mt. Minakami. Sure, Dr. Balkus might have somehow implied to  
Zektor and the others that he wanted Aptom alive, but two of his friends might  
as well be dead by now, and Zektor was sure that Dr. Balkus could learn as much  
from dissecting Aptom's inert corpse as he could from interrogating the former  
Hyper Zoanoid personally. And in a much safer way, as well.

It was with all these thoughts in mind that Zektor ordered the remainder of  
Team Five to follow Aptom. Blasting or smashing their way through the trees that  
stood in front of them, so that Aptom wouldn't be able to use their high  
branches to get the drop on Team Five again, Zektor, Gaster and Darzerb carved a  
path through the forest. To find Aptom, and to kill him.

XxXxX

They had gotten separated somehow, Sho couldn't very clearly remember how  
after being pummeled upside the head by Guyot for what had felt like a couple of  
days, but the end result was the same. He and Mizuki were now running for their  
lives through the mazelike streets of Takeshiro. Or at least Sho was running for  
his life, since he had pulled Mizuki onto his back because as the Guyver he was  
faster than any living human.

He couldn't run at his full speed, of course, since the friction from the  
wind would more than likely injure Mizuki at the Guyver's top speed. But he  
could run a lot faster than either he or Mizuki was capable of normally. Sho  
couldn't help the thought that Chronos had actually _built_ Takeshiro,  
since the layout of the town was confusing enough to be a deliberate attempt by  
them to hold him and Mizuki captive. That was probably just Sho's imagination  
running away with him again, though.

As he ran through the street, Sho had had to frequently jump over cars that  
suddenly came racing at him, either accidentally or deliberately as their  
drivers were turned into Zoanoids by the psychic waves emanating from Mt.  
Minakami. Sho, as much as he hated even the thought of it, knew what he would  
have to do if even one of those Zoanoids caught up to him. But there was no time  
for a running battle, and even if there was, Sho would never have risked  
injuring Mizuki.

So he kept running, hoping that he would find a way out of Chronos' trap.  
Sho was starting to get a little tired now, something that even the Guyver  
couldn't help him with, and he just hoped that he would have the stamina to  
stay awake long enough to get Mizuki to safety. Leaving her at the nonexistent  
mercy of the Guyver's hyper-defensive mode wasn't something Sho would ever  
let himself consider for very long.

Even the thought of it made him feel sick inside.

Running and jumping over yet another speeding car, Sho looked out ahead to  
see if he was actually coming to the end of the city. But no, all that he could  
see in front of him were more buildings, hemming him in and making him easy prey  
for some of the faster Zoanoids. Ducking into an alley that was just wide enough  
to accommodate the Guyver's somewhat bulky armor but too narrow for any of the  
Zoanoids, with the possible exception of the Hyper Zoanoid Zancrus, Sho kept  
running.

He was still hoping to find a way out of Takeshiro, but that hope was  
starting to become a faint one by now. Not wanting to take the risk of flying  
with Mizuki still on his back, Sho pushed himself to run a bit faster. There  
were Enzyme II Zoanoids after him, and if even one of them caught up to him…  
Sho didn't even want to think about what would happen. He couldn't even  
really be grateful that Guyot wasn't chasing after him anymore, because that  
only meant that Tetsuro, Mr. Murakami, and the others were all still in danger.

More danger than he was in right now, of course, since Guyot was a Zoalord.  
Gasping for air, Sho kept running. Mizuki was a barely perceptible weight on his  
back, light as a feather. And once again Sho had to be grateful for the Guyver's  
strength. Out of the alleyway now, Sho looked around quickly, to make sure that  
there were no Zoanoids waiting to ambush him now that he was without the mild  
protection of the narrow space between the walls.

There weren't any Zoanoids, luckily for the two of them, and Sho saw  
something that made him feel even better: the end of the valley. There were only  
about two kilometers between him and the end of the Zoanoid-overrun city.  
Running like the hounds of hell were after him, which was a very apt metaphor in  
this case, Sho put all that he had into making it those last two kilometers. But  
then, Sho started to hesitate.

__

What about Mr. Murakami and the others? Sho  
demanded of himself. _What about Tetsuro? I can't just leave them behind to  
fight Guyot, can I? They might be in danger._ As Sho started to wonder if what  
he was doing was right, his running speed started to drop slowly. This wouldn't  
have been much of a problem except for the fact that it would give the Zoanoids  
pursuing him a chance to catch up. And that was just what they were doing.


	17. Escape

With Sho no longer running anywhere nearly as fast as he had been, more and  
more Zoanoids were starting to gather behind him. Massing for a charge on Dr.  
Balkus' orders. Finally, Sho stopped, just over half a kilometer from his  
intended destination. He couldn't just leave all of the others behind to face Guyot, even if that meant that he would have to run all through Takeshiro again  
looking for them.

Agito and Mr. Murakami were strong, that was true, but Guyot might be too much  
for even them to handle on their own. Sho knew that he needed to go and help  
them, he knew that he would never be able to forgive himself if he left them  
alone to die. Just as Sho was about to turn around and start looking for another  
way to get back into Takeshiro without having to deal with all of the Zoanoids  
that were after him, Mizuki screamed.

Sho wondered briefly what could be making her so agitated, since she had  
taken the trip well so far, when the sensors in his helmet both jerked backwards  
suddenly. They gave Sho a very clear view of the army of Zoanoids that was  
closing in on them. Sho knew now why Mizuki had screamed, and he also knew that  
there was very little chance of him ever being able to get past that many  
Zoanoids without endangering Mizuki. Especially since there were a fair amount  
of Enzyme IIs in the group.

Running at nearly the Guyver's top speed, Sho started to hear an odd noise  
coming from behind him. It almost sounded like the humming of a Guyver's  
Vibration Blades. When the Zoanoids pursuing him started screaming in agony, Sho  
risked a look back over his shoulder. There, standing in the middle of a heap of  
disintegrating Zoanoid corpses, was Agito Makashima – Guyver III.

_   
__ _

_He's not dead!_ Was the first thing that came to Sho's mind when he  
saw Agito. Agito nodded quickly to him and proceeded to slaughter his way  
through the Zoanoids that had the severely bad luck to be standing between him  
and Sho. Sho, letting Mizuki slide down off of his back, extended his Vibration  
Blades and waded into the fight himself.

_   
__ _

_+Agito, where are Tetsuro and the others?+_ Sho asked over the  
Guyver-link, not wanting to try and out shout the Zoanoids. _+Are they all  
right?+_

__

_+All of your friends are safe, Sho,+_ Agito said calmly. _+We were all  
able to take shelter in a hidden location.+_

__

_+What hidden location?+ _Sho asked. _+Where could you have gone that's  
safe from Guyot?+_

__

_+You might find this a little hard to believe, Sho,+ _Agito said, with a  
distinct tone of amusement. _+But Tetsuro, Murakami and all of the others are  
taking shelter inside Mt. Minakami. Specifically, they're in the lowest level  
of Mt. Minakami, a place known as Relics Point.+_

__

_+They're under Mt. Minakami?!+ _it was only through the most stringent  
of efforts that Sho was able to keep himself from shouting this new in formation  
in a loud and disbelieving voice. _+How can they be safe there?! That place is  
the largest Chronos laboratory in this area!+_

__

_+All of the scientists who work in the basement are our allies,+ _Agito  
said calmly. _+They have been working against Chronos for some time.+_

__

_+But, Agito…+_

__

_+There is no time for further explanations right now, Sho,+ _Agito said.  
Pulling open his chestplates, Agito began charging up the Mega-Smasher. _+After  
I deal with these Zoanoids, then we can go and meet up with the rest of our  
group.+_

Sho couldn't think of any way to respond to Agito's statement, so he  
wordlessly walked over to Mizuki and pulled her onto his back again. The power  
of the Mega-Smasher ripped through the Zoanoids and tore into the ground. Sho  
and Mizuki both turned away, though for somewhat different reasons. Mizuki  
turned away because the light of the Mega-Smasher was extremely uncomfortable  
for human eyes, Sho turned away because he didn't want to look.

Once the carnage was over, Sho turned to look back at where the Zoanoids had  
been standing. The utter devastation in front of him was just about what Sho had  
expected, likewise the sight of Agito just closing his Guyver's chestplates.  
Sho sighed, hearing steam escape from the Guyver's facial vents, as Agito  
beckoned him forward.

"We should get going now, Fukamachi," Agito said. "The others  
are all waiting for us."

"Right," Sho nodded.

Mizuki, from her place on Sho's back, wondered whether or not to ask Agito  
just where Tetsuro and the other people who had come with them had ended up. In  
the end, though, it was Sho who spoke next.

"Agito, how did you and the others manage to get away from Guyot in the  
first place?"

"It wasn't easy, of course," Agito said calmly, as he used the  
Guyver's sensors to make sure that there were all as alone as they appeared to  
be. "In the end, when he wouldn't give up no matter what we hit him with,  
we had to let him think he'd killed us. To make matters worse, nothing we did  
to him even made a dent on his Zoalord body."

"So, how were you able to make him think he'd killed you when you were  
all still fighting?"

"The last attack Guyot hit us with was a gravity wave that collapsed the  
ground underneath our feet," Agito said. "Murakami used his forcefield  
to protect us, and then we escaped by tunneling deep into the ground with my  
Gravity Controller. Guyot was arrogant enough that when he saw the crater that  
his attack had left, he just assumed that we were all dead. Of course, Murakami  
managed to knock himself out when he used up his energy in that fight. But all  
of us did make it out of that battle alive."

"I'm glad," Sho said, and smiled. "But that still doesn't  
explain how you and all the others ended up hiding under Mt. Minakami of all  
places."

"My brother and our friends are all under Mt. Minakami?!" Mizuki  
screeched. But she screeched quietly, since she didn't know if any other  
Zoanoids were close enough to overhear.

"Yes," Agito stated, with such calm that Mizuki started having some  
doubts about his sanity. "As I told Sho, all of our friends are currently  
in the basement level of Mt. Minakami, a place called Relics Point. You've no  
need to worry Mizuki, everyone is quite safe there. Your brother has even  
managed to find something to keep himself occupied so that he stays out of  
trouble."

Mizuki still looked at Agito as if his Guyver had just turned hot pink, but  
Sho nodded.


	18. Descent

"What do we do now, Agito?" Sho asked.

"I would suggest that you take Mizuki off your back so that we can  
remove our Guyver units. We want to be as unobtrusive as we can from now on. If  
anyone were to follow us, especially a Zoanoid, no one in the basement would be  
safe."

"All right," Sho nodded.

Letting Mizuki slide off his back, Sho concentrated on sending the Guyver  
back to its resting-place in the other dimension. The Guyver peeled off of his  
body with a rush, leaving Sho shivering slightly in the mildly cool breeze.  
Agito, as usual, didn't give any indication that dismissing his Guyver had any  
effect on him at all. Once they were both back in their normal human forms,  
Mizuki went up to Sho and squeezed his hand.

Smiling at her, Sho turned and followed Agito to wherever he was leading  
them. They slunk into the shadows, to better avoid the notice of any of the  
Zoanoids that populated Takeshiro and yet hadn't been involved in the attack.  
Sho almost started to wonder just how many innocent people that he and Agito had  
managed to kill, but then he forced himself to focus on getting into the  
basement of Mt. Minakami and meeting up with Tetsuro, Mr. Murakami and the  
others.

Thinking about something that couldn't be changed would only make him  
depressed Sho knew, and it was important not to think about things that would  
have that kind of effect. Sho had had a very harsh lesson in what could happen  
if he allowed the things that he had done to weigh him down. Aptom's attack  
had made sure that Sho knew just what would happen to all of his friends, and to  
the other innocent people who were being threatened by Chronos, if he allowed  
that to happen again.

He had made a promise, to himself and to his father's memory, that he would  
never run away from the fight again. He was determined that he would never break  
that one vow, despite anything that he might have to do to himself to carry it  
through. It was the one promise that Chronos would never force him to break, and  
the only thing Sho could do to honor the memory of his father.

As Agito led them through the dark and narrow back-alleys, Sho couldn't  
help but wonder just how the three of them would be able to make it into this  
"Relics Point" without being noticed. Agito probably had some sort of  
plan, but for the life of him Sho couldn't think just what it might be.  
Looking around again, Sho found that they had come to a much smaller, more  
run-down section of Takeshiro.

_   
__ _

_What are we doing in a place like this?_ Sho wondered. _Granted it's  
kind of obvious that no one lives out here, so we should be safe from getting  
noticed by any Zoanoids, but I still don't understand what could be in a place  
like this._ Looking over at Agito, meaning to ask him a question, Sho noticed  
that Agito was staring forward with the utmost intensity.

"All right, there aren't any Zoanoids around for the moment. Let's  
move quickly before that changes," Agito ordered.

With a cursory amount of urging, Sho and Mizuki starting moving forward while  
Agito made absolutely sure that there were no Zoanoids trying to get the drop on  
them from behind. Their destination was an old well with a crumbling wooden  
roof, and Sho again wondered just how Agito intended to get them all into Mt.  
Minakami without getting caught. They all met up again in the shadow of a large  
tree overlooking the well.

"We can get into one of the lower levels above Relics Point through  
here," Agito said, pointing to the old well.

The three of them hurried over the rest of the ground that separated them  
from the well itself, and Sho peered down into the darkness when they had all  
finally arrived. It didn't look very promising, but Agito seemed to be  
satisfied with it, and Sho knew he could trust Agito.

"All right, we can climb down now," Agito said. "Sho, do you want  
me to go first?"

"No," Sho shook his head. "I can handle it. Thanks though,  
Agito."

Agito nodded wordlessly as Sho's foot found the first rung of the ladder  
set into the wall of the well. Taking a deep breath and smiling at Mizuki, Sho  
started to climb down. Agito took another look around as he ushered Mizuki into  
the well after Sho had gotten far down enough that she wouldn't step on his  
hands. Agito was taking one last look at the surrounding area, to make  
absolutely sure that the area was completely free of any kind of bystanders.

Then, when he was satisfied with his observations, Agito himself started to  
climb down into the well. Being careful not to step on Segawa's hands, Agito  
made his way as quickly as he could down the ladder. It was only at the moment  
that his head had passed below the rim of the well that Agito allowed himself to  
relax slightly. They were out of danger for a little while, but they would soon  
be walking right back into it again. Agito sighed softly. Murakami was right  
about one thing: they never _could_ seem to keep themselves out of trouble.

Once the three of them were back on solid ground, Agito gestured for  
Fukamachi and Segawa to follow him, since he knew that any words he said would  
be amplified by the echo-chamber made by the walls of the well. Once they were  
all heading in the right direction, Agito noticed that Fukamachi was about to  
say something.

_   
__ _

_+What is it, Fukamachi?+_

__

_+Agito? Why are we using the Guyver-link now?+_

__

_+It would be better if we didn't speak in this kind of an enclosed  
environment,+ _Agito explained. _+The surrounding stone would act as an  
amplifier for whatever noises we make. I would simply like to keep that to a  
minimum.+_

__

_+Oh, that makes sense.+_

__

_+Good, I'm glad you see the necessity,+ _Agito said calmly. _+Now,  
what was it that you wanted to ask me?+_

__

_+I just wanted to know when we were going to get to this "Relics  
Point", is all.+_

__

_+This tunnel will lead us to one of the old monorail lines that used to  
service Mt. Minakami in the past. Fortunately for us, however, this particular  
line has been out of use for quite some time,+ _Agito explained. _+From  
there, we will be able to use the elevators to access the deeper levels of Mt.  
Minakami, and from there we will eventually make it to Relics Point.+_

__

_+Oh,+ _Fukamachi seemed to understand that line of reasoning, and Agito  
was grateful for small favors.

They moved in relative silence from then on, Agito always keeping an eye out  
for anything that might impede their progress.


	19. Attack

Aptom, whistling jauntily the way Zancrus always did when he wanted to annoy  
Zektor, hopped through the trees that surrounded Mt. Minakami. The remaining  
members of Team Five, all three of them, had either given up their search for  
him or had been recalled by that old coot Dr. Balkus; Aptom didn't  
particularly care which. He had long since abandoned the fused form of Elegen  
and Zancrus that he had jokingly called Elecrus.

Team Five hadn't found Aptom's sense of humor particularly appealing, but  
Team Five could go do obscene things with Dr. Balkus for all he cared. Back in  
his humanoid form but without a stitch of clothing on, Aptom raced carelessly  
through the treetops. The wind felt nice on his skin, and his epidermal layers  
were tough enough that he didn't even need to worry about mundane things like  
splinters or the like.

Zancrus and Elegen, when they had discovered that they both still existed in  
a sense, had started cursing at him and demanding to be set free. Or at least  
Elegen had. Zancrus however, had started panicking when he realized that he  
couldn't really see or hear anything. His mind had pretty much folded after  
that; despite Elegen's repeated attempts to bring him out of himself. Aptom  
thought it was hilarious; a member of the vaunted Hyper Zoanoid Team Five had  
had a paralyzing fear of enclosed spaces and old man Balkus hadn't even  
noticed.

Looking down at the surrounding area, Aptom quickly spotted the group of  
Standard Zoanoids poking around. Looking down at them, Aptom noticed that they  
weren't just randomly patrolling. There was too much purpose to their  
movements for them to be in this area just by coincidence, which Aptom wasn't  
certain he really believed in anyway. No, there were really only two reasons for  
these Zoanoids to be out this far from Mt. Minakami: because they were searching  
for the Guyvers, or because they were searching for him.

Aptom grinned. _Ahh, the late lunch special. What better way to conclude an  
afternoon of strenuous exercise?_ Aptom's chuckle was low enough that even  
the enhanced hearing of a Zoalord would have had a hard time picking it up.  
Leaping out of the tree he'd been perched in, Aptom saw the looks on the  
Zoanoids' faces go from surprise to sheer astonishment to fear in about a  
minute. _Let's see what they look like when I'm snacking on them._

Blasting one of them with a low-power shot from his hand beam, Aptom grabbed  
another around the neck. His helmet shattered under the punch Aptom hit it with,  
and the rest of his uniform was torn to shreds when he involuntarily transformed  
when Aptom started feeding. The other Zoanoids tried to run, but Aptom whipped  
out Elegen's tentacles and stunned all of them with a few hundred volts.  
Giggling as his extra appendages wrapped around the bodies of his prey, Aptom  
happily began to gorge himself on their flesh.

Standard Zoanoids wouldn't really provide him with any extra powers of  
course, not the way that Hyper Zoanoids could, and especially not this bunch of  
Gregole and Ramochis. But he was still hungry, and they were all there for the  
taking, and so he'd decided to have a quick meal. The screams of the Zoanoids  
as they became a part of him weren't quite as fun to hear as those of Elegen  
and Zancrus had been, but the Standard Zoanoids fed his hunger just as well as  
the Hyper Zoanoids had.

And that was really the most important part, the screaming was really just a  
bonus. It was a fun bonus, Aptom wouldn't deny that, but what mattered most  
was the sustenance to be gained when he fed. Or at least, that was what Aptom  
told himself.

XxXxX

As they headed deeper into the monorail tunnel that would take them into Mt.  
Minakami, and from there into Relics Point, Agito looked back at his companions.  
Fukamachi and Segawa were huddled together, seemingly trying not to so much as _touch_  
the walls surrounding them. Agito knew for a fact that neither of them was  
claustrophobic, since he would have found out about such a weakness a great deal  
sooner. It was more likely that they were simply unnerved by the fact that they  
would soon be walking into the heart of an enemy stronghold.

In fact, if Agito hadn't been so well trained at concealing his own  
emotions, the group who he had first come into this place might have found out  
that the thought of walking right back into the largest Chronos laboratory that  
currently operated in Japan had been something of an unnerving experience for  
him as well.

"You've no need to worry," Agito repeated, trying to reassure the  
both of them. "As I said before, we will be quite safe once we get into  
Relics Point."

"Agito," Segawa paused, seeming to gather herself for what she was  
going to ask next. "Are my brother and our friends really safe down  
there?"

"Yes, they are," Agito said, and it took only a minute amount of  
his control to keep from being snappish. He _had_ already told her this  
fact, of course. "The basement of Relics Point is quite safe for us, I  
assure you."

"All right," Segawa nodded, evidently deciding to take his word for  
it.

Agito was relieved that she didn't seem to need any more convincing.  
Finally spotting the large case that had been left on the floor of the tunnel,  
shoved mostly out of sight behind a small pile of rubble, Agito nodded to  
himself.

"I just need to retrieve something before we can continue into Mt.  
Minakami," Agito said. "By the way, Fukamachi, it was considerate of  
you to retain possession of that Chronos uniform I gave you. It spared me the  
trouble of trying to steal another one."

"You're welcome, I guess," Fukamachi seemed confused.

Crouching beside the case, Agito undid the catches that held it closed and  
then opened the case itself. Inside were two Chronos uniform helmets, one with a  
uniform jumpsuit rolled up inside it, another Chronos uniform jumpsuit, and two  
pairs of boots. The case itself was large enough to hold a person with varying  
degrees of comfort depending on their size. Mizuki would easily be able to fit  
inside.

"What do we do now, Agito?" Sho asked.

"First, Fukamachi, we get dressed in these," Agito stated calmly.  
"Remove your outer clothing first; you might recall that these uniforms are  
skintight."

"Right," Sho nodded, holding up the jumpsuit and stretching the  
fabric a bit. "Mizuki, could you…?"

"What? Oh, right," Mizuki blushed slightly as she turned away from  
Agito and Sho.


	20. Deception

Once Mizuki's back was to them, Sho and Agito started stripping down to  
their undergarments. They left their socks on, of course, and then they packed  
their original clothes in the case where Mizuki was going to be. There would  
still be ample room for her, of course.

"Mizuki," Agito said. "Come here, would you?"

"What do you want me to do?" Mizuki asked as she came over to stand  
beside him.

"There is a reason that I didn't steal another uniform for you,  
Mizuki," Agito informed her, while he set the clothes and shoes inside the  
case in such a way that they wouldn't be of too much an inconvenience to  
Mizuki. "Chronos has never processed a woman before, and with your physique  
you would have a great deal of trouble just blending in. It would be much safer  
for both you and us if you were to simply follow my suggestions."

"All right, Agito. What do you want me to do?" Mizuki asked again.

"Climb into this case and make yourself as comfortable as you are  
able," Agito instructed calmly, gesturing toward the off-white carrier in  
front of them.

"All right," Mizuki nodded a little dubiously.

Climbing into the case once Agito had stood it on its side, Mizuki curled up  
as tightly as she needed in order to be able to fit herself inside the case.  
That turned out not to be very tightly at all.

"Good," Agito nodded, as he closed the case with Mizuki inside.

"Agito, are you sure she's going to be safe in there? What about if  
she starts to run out of air?" Sho asked, as he began to strap the helmet  
of his Chronos uniform on.

"The case has sufficient ventilation," Agito said calmly. "We  
were also able to disguise that fact, as you might know by now."

"Oh," Sho said, snapping on his helmet and flexing his fingers to  
get used to the sensation of wearing gloves again.

The entire uniform felt strange on him, but that might have just been because  
he was remembering what had happened the last time he and Agito had put on these  
uniforms and gone walking straight into Mt. Minakami. Sho tried to put that out  
of his mind, working to reassure himself that this time would be different than  
the last time. They weren't going in on a rescue mission this time, but there  
was still the chance that they would be discovered. Sho decided not to think  
about that.

"Fukamachi, let's go," Agito said calmly, evidently seeing the  
nervousness that Sho was starting to feel.

"All right, Agito. I'm coming."

"Remember, we are not to refer to each other by name once we enter Mt.  
Minakami," Agito said. "In fact, I suppose that we should simply not  
speak at all unless we are required to. That was the procedure I saw in practice  
in most of the main areas of Mt. Minakami."

"All right," Sho nodded, then fell silent.

Agito nodded as well, then he popped out a handle that Sho hadn't even  
noticed from the back of the transport case. Agito knew that most of the larger  
transport cases were equipped with these pop-out handles, as well as having  
small wheels on the bottom, to facilitate their ease in being moved. The wheels  
themselves were freshly greased, so the case moved easily along the tunnel floor  
without making too much noise.

The only things that echoed off the walls of the tunnel, in fact, were the  
footsteps of Agito and Sho as they made their way through the tunnel and the  
wheels rolling over the somewhat uneven ground. Sho was starting to feel a  
little apprehensive by the time that he and Agito finally made it to an opening.  
Agito beckoned him forward, and Sho pushed down his uneasiness and followed  
Agito through the hole and into another tunnel.

This one was obviously the monorail tunnel that Agito had mentioned, the one  
that would lead them into Mt. Minakami. The single track in the middle of the  
tunnel were a fairly large giveaway as to the tunnel's original function. As  
Sho followed Agito closer to Mt. Minakami, he hoped that Mr. Murakami would be  
okay when they finally met up. Agito had said that Mr. Murakami had used up all  
of his energy in the fight with Guyot, but maybe that only meant that he had to  
rest.

Yes, that was probably it. Mr. Murakami just had to rest from the fight with Guyot, he would probably at least be awake by the time that Sho and Agito had  
made into the basement of Relics Point. With that thought in mind, it was easier  
for Sho to focus on keeping his cover the way that he had when he and Agito had  
gone into Mt. Minakami the first time.

XxXxX

Aptom, full after his latest meal, was lounging in a tree. He was also almost  
casually bio-morphing his hand back and forth between that of a human and that  
of the Enzyme II whose DNA Dr. Balkus had been courteous enough to provide him  
with. It was a sort of game he had developed for himself to play when he was  
bored, and Aptom was currently bored out of his skull.

All of the Hyper Zoanoids that had been in this area had fled, no doubt under  
the orders of the old coot. Hell, he hadn't even managed to catch the rest of  
Team Five. Aptom _had_ managed to nab a few of the 'normal' Hyper  
Zoanoids though, and now he knew they would be on high-alert for him. That didn't  
mean so much, Aptom knew, since he _was_ a shapeshifter after all.

But still, it was kind of annoying to think that his snacks were getting  
smarter. _So, absorbing Standard Zoanoids doesn't make me any stronger. I  
need Hyper Zoanoids if I want to get anything useful out of my meals. Or maybe  
something even stronger… _Aptom smiled then, as an idea came to him with  
startling clarity and suddenness. _Zoalords! Of course, I wouldn't want to  
eat the old coot, since I imagine he wouldn't taste very good…_ Aptom  
laughed inwardly.

_   
__ _

_But maybe one of the others…_ Aptom thought for a minute, trying to  
recall if there _were_ any other Zoalords staying in Mt. Minakami at  
present. He grinned as a recollection came to him. _Of course! Commander Guyot  
came to Mt. Minakami when Chronos Japan's other HQ got totaled in that Guyver  
attack!_ Aptom grinned. _Maybe I'll just have to pay old Guyot a visit._  
It took a great amount of self-control for Aptom not to laugh out loud.

You never really knew when other Zoanoids might be watching, after all.

XxXxX

Back in the deeper levels of Mt. Minakami, just a single level above the  
beginning of Relics Point in fact, Dr. Halverson drank a cup of fresh coffee and  
periodically checked on the growth of the specimen Commander Guyot had brought to  
him. He'd managed to shut his nagging conscience up some time ago, and by now  
he was fully appreciating the fruit of his labors. The boy, who was no longer  
really a boy but a young man now, had grown up quite nicely.

It would still be about four or five hours before he would be able to survive  
the drastic physical and genetic changes necessary for him to become a Zoalord,  
true, but Halverson knew that he was close to completing his full growth cycle.  
His physical development was just passing that of an eighteen-year-old, and  
Halverson could clearly see that the boy's musculature was almost fully  
developed.

_   
__ _

_I suppose that to me this specimen will always be a child, despite anything I  
might have to do to him._ Halverson was starting to feel a little more  
relaxed, now that the specimen was no longer so obviously too underdeveloped to  
be processed. Now, if any of the scientists loyal to Dr. Balkus were to come  
across this particular processing-tank, they would not see anything out of the  
ordinary with regards to what Halverson was doing.

After all, the beginning of the Zoaformation process was often the most  
touch-and-go. It was sometimes difficult to predict just how the physiology of  
certain individuals would react to the mutigenic properties of the processing  
fluid once they were exposed to it. It wouldn't do to make a Lost Unit just  
because of carelessness, after all. Neither would it be advisable to kill the  
intended Zoanoid just because someone couldn't be bothered to monitor their  
growth.

Halverson looked back to the monitoring console, decreasing the growth  
hormones to a more stable level and adjusting the vitamin solution. The calcium  
could be dispensed with entirely at this point, and Halverson did so without  
hesitation. Halverson was satisfied with the fact that no one who did not know  
about the child's being brought into Mt. Minakami would ever be able to  
recognize him as such.


	21. Encounter

Agito, Sho and Mizuki had made it into one of the middle levels of Mt.  
Minakami, and now they were all inside one of the elevators. They went four  
levels downward before the elevator stopped and Agito nodded to himself.

_   
__ _

_+This is far enough on this one, Fukamachi,+ _Agito said. _+Come with  
me.+_

__

_+Why? Where are we going?+_

__

_+Just follow me. I'll explain it when we're moving again,+_ Agito said  
almost impatiently.

Sho, without saying a word out loud, followed Agito out of the elevator.  
Under his goggled helmet, Agito's eyes swept from side to side. Taking in  
everything without seeming to be looking at anything in particular. The hallway  
was clear of Zoanoids for now, but there _were _some of Mt. Minakami's  
unprocessed work crew – mostly janitorial staff – walking past. They showed  
the expected deference to a pair of busy Zoanoids, as Agito had expected, so  
there was no fear of discovery from them. Once the two of them had made it to  
another elevator Agito stepped inside.

_   
__ _

_+We were just on an elevator, Agito,+ _Sho said, confused. _+Why are we  
switching to a new one?+_

__

_+It is safer for us to proceed this way,+ _Agito said calmly._ +If we  
were to descend straight into Relics Point and then disappear, Dr. Balkus might  
become suspicious.+_

__

_+Oh, I see.+_

The rest of the ride was in almost complete silence. Once the elevator they  
were on had stopped, this time after traveling only three levels, Sho and Agito  
again left the elevator to find another one. Sho was a little worried that all  
this moving around might attract unwanted attention, but then again Agito _had_  
been stationed inside this base up until two days ago, so he would probably know  
the best way to avoid being noticed.

As they were just about to step into the next elevator, Sho and Agito could  
almost _feel_ the pair of eyes boring into the back of their skulls.

"'Excuse me, gentlemen," a very, _very_ familiar – and  
unwelcome – voice said from behind them. "I believe that I take  
precedence."

Turning quickly without seeming to panic, Agito pushed Sho out of Guyot's  
way with a firm arm across the other Guyver's chest. Guyot nodded arrogantly to  
them as he passed, since as far as he was concerned they were beneath his  
notice. Agito watched as the elevator doors closed, firmly separating Guyot from  
the two of them. Agito was glad that Guyot hadn't tried to give them any  
telepathic orders, as that would have ended up blowing their cover entirely.

Sho felt Agito take hold of his wrist and lead him away from the elevator  
that Guyot had just commandeered, and he followed without a word or a look back.  
Sho didn't want to be any closer to Guyot than he had to be, in fact hiding  
under even this large a mountain with the Zoalord was enough to give Sho chills  
of a very unpleasant nature. Walking a little faster, Sho tried to put as much  
distance between himself and Guyot as he could without looking like he was trying  
to run away from the man.

Once he and Agito had made it safely into another elevator, Sho took several  
deep breaths and let them out slowly. He had heard somewhere that that was  
supposed to calm a person down, unless that person had literally come  
face-to-face with a Zoalord who had tried to kill him on more than one occasion  
– and had even succeeded once, though Sho didn't like to think about that  
– then absolutely _nothing_ would calm that person down.

_   
__ _

_+Stop hyperventilating Fukamachi,+ _Agito ordered. _+Guyot didn't find  
us out, but if you start panicking now, the other Zoanoids are going to do just  
that.+_

__

_+I know that Agito,+ _Sho said, shuddering. _+But I… he was so close…  
and then…+_

__

_+Fukamachi!+ _Agito shouted over the link._ Damn! He's going into  
shock._

Sho's arms were crossed over his chest, both hands gripping the opposite  
shoulder. He was backed against the wall of the elevator, and had started  
sinking slowly to a sitting position on the floor. Agito was tempted to kick  
Sho, just to get him to give some form of reaction. Sho, however, was still  
mentally out in the hallway, staring into Guyot's hateful purple-and-yellow  
eyes. What if he'd found them out already? What if Guyot was even now sending  
Zoanoid teams to ambush them when they left the relative safety of the elevator?

What if he'd already found out about Mr. Murakami and the others having  
survived his last attack? Sho didn't think he could live with himself if he  
found out that he had been responsible for the deaths of more people that he  
cared about. Just then, Sho felt a sudden, sharp pain in his shin.

_   
__ _

_+Get up, Fukamachi,+ _Agito demanded sternly. _+We're about to switch  
elevators again. If you're still here like that when the doors open, you will  
end up getting all three of us killed.+_

It was more the way Agito spoke that got Sho's attention; as if he was  
merely telling information that he thought would be useful for Sho to have. It  
was just this matter-of-fact delivery that snapped Sho out of his trance. Sho  
slowly pushed himself back up to stand on his feet.

_   
__ _

_+Thanks, Agito,+ _Sho said sheepishly. _+I guess I needed that.+_

Agito nodded silently, and Sho watched as the doors of the elevator slid open  
almost-silently. By the time the two of them had started walking again, Sho was  
almost completely over his earlier panic reaction. Guyot may have known a lot of  
things, but he wasn't omniscient. He couldn't have known that one of his  
worst enemies had been standing only a few steps in front of him. Agito had said  
that the others had managed to convince Guyot that he had killed them.

Guyot wouldn't have been looking for people that he thought he had already  
killed.


	22. Zoalord

Aptom had gotten hungry again by now, and also bored, which was always a bad combination when one had to deal with him. He knew that there had to be more Hyper Zoanoids out here, Hyper Zoanoids that he could use to boost his own strength for when he went to confront Commander Guyot. Aptom knew that he would need all the strength he could steal to be able to take on a Zoalord like Commander Guyot.

That was why he was leaping through the trees in the failing light, trying to move as quietly as he could. Aptom was on the hunt again. Completely out of thin air, a bright burst of light exploded onto the scene. Seemingly even brighter because Aptom's eyes had adjusted to the darkness as it had become progressively later. Now Aptom had to quickly readjust to the new level of light he had to deal with.

Not being human anymore helped him in that respect, since as a former Hyper Zoanoid it took his eyes a lot less time to adjust to light. Looking down at the three Zoanoids that he'd crossed paths with awhile ago, Aptom didn't know yet whether they were Hypers or not, he saw that they were going over to investigate the flash of light. He could hear them talking, wondering what the lightshow was, and one of them mentioned that it had better not be _him_ causing it.

Aptom was mildly insulted that they thought he would be that obvious. He hadn't been this successful on his Zoanoid hunts by being stupid and obvious, like whoever it was that was giving the lightshow was certainly being. Aptom wasn't sure just who _was_ treating the four of them to the sight, but as much as he would be loath to admit it out loud, he was just as curious as the Zoanoids he'd been following.

Besides all of that, he was still hungry. Whatever this new thing was, if it happened to be something Aptom could sink his proverbial teeth into, he was going to be there to lay claim to it before old man Balkus got wind of it.

"Look, it's coming down!"

"Do you still think it could be Aptom?"

"Nah, even Aptom doesn't have this kind of power. Besides, this feels different."

"I know, it couldn't be Aptom."

__   
__

_"That kind of power"? I'll show you who has the power around_ here, you walking piece of lunchmeat! Aptom sneered inwardly. But, as the glowing figure slowly descended to land, Aptom could almost feel what was making the Zoanoids below so confused. There was something in the air, something that even he would have been reacting to if he'd had the bad luck to still be a Hyper Zoanoid at this point.

But even as he was, he could still tell that there was something very strange going on in this area now. Aptom was just wondering what that strange thing was, when the figure landed and the light surrounding it dimmed. It didn't go out entirely, which was really weird as far as Aptom was concerned, but it did recede to the point where he could make out the figure behind all that golden-white light. The first thing that struck Aptom about the figure was its height.

Aptom would have estimated this new guy to be at least six feet tall, if not a bit more than that. And Aptom could just _feel_ his power radiating in the air. It enveloped him but it didn't affect him, at least not the way it did the Zoanoids who Aptom now could see were kneeling at the man's feet.

"Ah, a scouting crew from the Japanese branch," the voice wasn't as low as Aptom thought he had been expecting, though it did fit with the face that he'd just noticed was hidden under all that light. 

"A pity they've seen me, now I suppose I have no choice."

When the not-a-Zoanoid's eyes started glowing with hot, white light, Aptom again didn't know quite what to expect. Thus, seeing the three Zoanoids' heads explode was something of an interesting surprise for Aptom. This guy… he had to be a Zoalord! Aptom grinned hungrily. _Maybe I don't need to go after the Commander after all. Or, maybe after a light snack here, I can go do that, too._

Aptom had to laugh a little after that. He though that even a Zoalord's hearing couldn't have picked up something so quiet, but this guy was apparently not a normal Zoalord. He turned his piercing, golden-eyed gaze to face Aptom. _Ooh, he's a pretty one._ Grinning, just to put the pretty Zoalord off balance, Aptom waved at him. The Zoalord didn't look as amused or surprised as Aptom would have expected him to be.

The way he was staring so intently kind of unnerved Aptom, but he'd be damned if he ever let that Zoalord standing under the tree know that. Seeming to finally notice that Aptom wasn't being affected by whatever power he had used to kill the three Zoanoids, the blond Zoalord held up his right hand, which Aptom noticed was encased in a tight, black leather glove.

The next thing Aptom knew, the tree he'd been sitting in was blown apart by what felt very much like some kind of a wind attack. _That's some trick! Okay, so I guess I found my first snack,_ Aptom grinned as he landed. This was going to be one hell of a challenge, but it wouldn't be as much fun if it were too easy.

"Hey, lunchmeat!" Aptom cackled. "You're pretty strong! Makes me wonder just how strong _I'm_ going to be once I've finished with you."

The Zoalord showed no discernable reaction, which was kind on annoying since Aptom liked seeing the look of fear on the faces of the Zoanoids that he stalked. But, then again, this guy had probably never heard of him before. So maybe that excused him from showing what Aptom felt was the appropriate level of slack-jawed terror. And, even though Aptom wouldn't have admitted it even under torture, there was something in the Zoalord's lack of any reaction that unnerved him.

He wouldn't have said it _scared_ him, because Aptom was a Lost Unit and Lost Units didn't get scared, but it was still kind of unnerving.

"Hey, I'm _talking_ to you," Aptom said as he rose to his full height, which annoyingly enough wasn't quite up to that of the Zoalord. "Don't try to pretend you can't hear me, lunchmeat!"

Still no response from the blond Zoalord standing in front of him. Annoyance spiraled into rage, which quickly sent fear whimpering into a dark corner. He'd been treated like shit, or alternately like he didn't even _exist_, for too fucking long now. Now it was his turn to cause some real trouble for his former 'employers', and Aptom would be damned if he was going to let such an opportunity pass him up. Besides, this guy was reminding him of Dr. Balkus now.

Aptom hated Dr. Balkus.

"You're _mine_! You hear that you bastard?!" Aptom charged.

All he had to do was get a handhold, Aptom knew, and his own parasitic DNA would take care of the rest. It was the one almost-nice thing Dr. Balkus had done for him, but even that didn't make up for his letting those idiotic Standard Zoanoids and Hyper Zoanoids treat him and his comrades like trash. Besides, anything the not-so-good doctor had done _for_ him was a fluke. Balkus had as much as admitted that to him when he had taken Elegen.

Aptom wasn't so absorbed in his charge that he failed to notice the Zoalord raising his hand again, but since he knew that the Zoalord's mental powers wouldn't work on him Aptom wasn't concerned so much about that. But, as he felt himself being lifted off the ground by some kind of invisible force, Aptom made a sound of surprise. It wasn't a yelp, since Lost Units _did not_ yelp even when they were honestly surprised, but nevertheless Aptom did acknowledge that that he was in fact surprised.

__

_Okay, so I'm floating now. This isn't so bad, I think I could even get_ used to it, Aptom reassured himself. _Hell, I could even get used to _using_ this power. _Aptom could see the Zoalord's eyes roving over his body as the Zoalord studied him, and could almost feel the Zoalord trying to access his mind and failing, then at last the pretty blond Zoalord started speaking again.


	23. Possibility

"So, I see now. By fusing your cells to those of another organism and by  
absorbing the DNA of whatever you manage to do so to, you create ever more  
powerful forms out of the recorded DNA of whatever you fuse with," the  
pretty Zoalord chuckled deep in his throat, definitely amused. "You're  
Hamilcal's work, aren't you? You certainly are the kind of creature that he  
would try to make."

Aptom was seething by now; how dare this bastard just dismiss him so  
casually. As if he was some sort of toy, just something to be laughed off. _Laugh  
while you can, you blond son of a bitch. I'll be feasting on your remains soon  
enough,_ Aptom thought with savage glee. Baring his teeth, Aptom snarled at  
his tormentor.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go so easily, despite the fact that you  
are rather fascinating in and of yourself. Hamilcal should have known better  
than to let a dangerous, experimental creature like you run around loose."

When he saw the energy beginning to collect just above the pretty Zoalord's  
gloved palm, Aptom had the feeling that he was going to have to regenerate yet  
another body for himself. As the glowing, pulsing energy bomb slammed into his  
midsection and obliterated most of Aptom's main body-mass there, Aptom felt  
his arms snap off of the ruined remains of his shoulders. Aptom took a moment to  
be thankful that he didn't really _need_ to breathe anymore, since at the  
moment he wouldn't have been able to anyway.

Laying amid the destroyed remains of his second body, Aptom swore internally  
as he heard Elegen laughing at him. Lifting his head was an effort, but Aptom  
just managed to do it in time to see the pretty blond Zoalord turn and walk  
away. _Well, that didn't go anything like I'd planned,_ Aptom though  
sarcastically, since talking was pretty much out of the question considering his  
currant lack of lungs.

But this wasn't over yet, oh no. As Aptom let his body parts dissolve into  
their component cells, he headed for the three Zoanoid corpses that littered the  
ground around him. They had just now started to decompose, so Aptom knew that he  
would have to be fast if he wanted to create three new bodies for himself  
instead of just one or two. Latching onto the corpses with three separate  
pseudo-appendages, Aptom began consuming the cells of the dead Zoanoids and  
replicating his own cells to replace them.

It wouldn't be long now…

 XxXxX

Commander Guyot stepped off of the elevator at the end of the underground  
levels that were considered a part of Mt. Minakami. Everything below this level  
was designated a part of Relics Point. As he passed the many empty  
processing-tanks on this level, Guyot reflected that he couldn't have found a  
much better place for his second little pet project. Very few of Dr. Balkus'  
loyal scientists would be seen in this area, since this was one of the older  
laboratories and hence considered not as prestigious to work in.

Guyot didn't know just how that line of reasoning had come into effect, but  
he wasn't one to question something too much when it could be used to his  
advantage. There were a few half-completed Zoanoids in the processing-tanks  
here, but all of those were closer to the elevator then the area where he had  
placed the Murakami boy. As Guyot passed the processing-tanks, some of them even  
empty of processing fluid, he wondered just what he would find when he saw the  
boy again.

By this time Guyot could see Dr. Halverson, still faithfully at his post. It  
was not many Zoalords who could command this kind of loyalty and respect from  
the humans who reported to them. Though Guyot was irked to have to admit that Dr.  
Balkus seemed to be able to inspire just that kind of loyalty in his scientists  
as well. As Guyot made his way still closer to where Dr. Halverson stood, he  
wondered just when the doctor was going to notice him. The click of his  
footsteps on the floor wasn't _that_ quiet, after all. And even a human,  
with their admittedly inferior senses, should be able to hear them by now.

"I'm very busy right now, Dr. Sanderson," Dr. Halverson said,  
without looking over at who was really standing next to him. "Thank you  
very much for the coffee, but this part of the operation is very delicate and I  
really can't be distracted right now."

Guyot nodded to himself and remained silent. Judging from the quick glimpse of  
the figure in the processing-tank that he had gotten, Guyot was at least  
reasonably sure that the end stages of the boy's physical development had been  
reached by this time. It would be quite a challenge for any scientist to arrest  
that maturation before the boy's biostructure passed its peak of physical  
development and started to decline. So in this case it would be prudent to show  
a little more discretion than he was sometimes wont to.

Guyot could hear the clicking of keys on the computer console that told him  
Dr. Halverson was indeed working on arresting the boy's maturation. Looking  
over at the Murakami boy, Guyot had to admit that Dr. Halverson had done fine  
work on him. He looked to be about twenty-five years old now, the perfect age  
for someone to undergo Zoalord processing and survive. Though Guyot remembered  
that he himself had been thirty when Dr. Balkus had put him though that process.

As the clicking of keys and the punching of buttons came to an end, Guyot turned his attention back to Dr. Halverson.

"Now, what was it that you…"

Guyot firmly quashed his urge to chuckle, and instead turned an appraising  
look on both Dr. Halverson and the console in front of him.

"I take it that the preliminary stages of our little project have been  
completed satisfactorily, doctor?"

"Yes sir, Commander Guyot," Dr. Halverson nodded. "I would say  
that it is safe to say that this… project is ready to be moved into the second  
stage."

"Good," Guyot nodded, pleased with Dr. Halverson's progress so  
far.

Walking over to the processing-tank that held Murakami's son in a  
sleep-like state of stasis, Guyot laid his hand against the Plexiglas of the  
processing-tank's shell. He didn't really know or care anymore just what a  
human would be able to see, through the mild distortion of the processing fluid,  
but Guyot could see the Murakami boy's new form perfectly. The boy was now just  
as tall and muscular as his annoying father, but the facial features were subtly  
different.

The boy's jawline was much smoother and more rounded than his father's,  
making the head itself a bit more egg-shaped. Guyot, who had always had an eye  
for physical beauty, noticed that the younger Murakami's chin was also  
slightly more pointed than his father's. The hair-color was identical of  
course, as it had been even when the boy was small. But the hair itself would  
now have fallen to just above the center of the shoulder blades if it hadn't  
been floating in the processing fluid. The face itself was just a shade narrower  
than his father's was, and the cheekbones higher and more delicate-looking.

As Guyot moved his hand to rest on the area where the Murakami boy's lips  
would have been if he was outside of the processing-tank rather than inside it,  
he reflected on the last of the physical changes that he had noticed. The fuller  
lips, added to the other features, did almost make him look feminine. But as far  
as Guyot was concerned, the boy's new appearance could easily be used to his  
own advantage. After all, many of the other people who worked for Chronos tended  
to associate physical beauty with weakness.

Of course those few who had had the severe misfortune to mention that opinion  
to Rienzi, Caerleon, or Purg'stall tended to die quickly. Perhaps in time the  
rest of the Chronos staff, what was left of them after those loyal to the old  
order had been purged, would learn not to underestimate the boy.

"How would you like to proceed from this point, Commander?" Dr.  
Halverson asked. "There are some basic Zoalord designs that I could  
probably adapt to suit his form."

"No," Guyot shook his head, firmly dismissing the idea.

"What did you have in mind then, Commander?" Dr. Halverson asked.  
"Are you going to get Dr. Balkus to design his form for you?"

At that suggestion, Guyot couldn't help but laugh. "Of course  
not," he managed to get out. Then, when he had finally regained his  
composure, Guyot elaborated. "I said that I wanted to have this done  
quietly."

"I see," Dr. Halverson nodded calmly. "I suppose that it _would_  
defeat the whole purpose of keeping this boy's existence a secret if you asked  
Dr. Balkus to create his Zoalord form. But then, who are you going to have  
develop it for you?"

"I think I will take that task for myself," Guyot said calmly.  
"I have a few ideas in mind."

"You, sir? But have you ever designed a Zoalord? I thought you had only  
designed Zoanoids in the past," Dr. Halverson said.

"I think I will be able to handle this," Guyot gave Dr. Halverson a  
sidelong smile. "I thank you for all the work you have done on this project  
so far."

Guyot turned away from the processing-tank, heading back to the elevator. He  
was already starting to consider just what the boy's Zoalord form would look  
like. Oh he had already had a few ideas on that front, but seeing the Murakami  
boy's fully developed form had been interesting if nothing else. And at least  
it had given him something else to work with.

Now, all that remained was to begin the second stage of his plan. Guyot laughed to himself, with both the Unit Remover and Murakami's son, Alkanphel  
and all of the others who were a part of the old order would be all the more  
easily eliminated.


	24. Playacting

_   
__ _

_+Fukamachi, we're at the last checkpoint now,+_  
Agito warned. _+Make no mistakes.+_

Sho nodded wordlessly, stepping closer to Agito and the crate that held  
Mizuki. The elevator doors opened almost soundlessly, revealing two jumpsuited  
Zoanoids standing in front of them. Sho breathed in deeply through his nose,  
trying to calm himself down without being too obvious about it. The two Zoanoids  
didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, so Sho thought he had  
safely managed it.

"We're carrying the experimental materials requested by research  
manager Odagiri, of the basement," Agito said, and Sho was surprised to  
realize that he could barely recognize Agito's voice. "This is our  
shipping manifest, you will find the letter of attorney attached as well."

Sho hadn't even seen Agito slip the voice-changer into his mouth. As the  
Zoanoid standing in front of them and to their right took the shipping manifest  
and looked it over, presumably making sure everything was in order, Sho took the  
handle of the crate in his gloved hands and started to push it out of the  
elevator. The Zoanoid on the left, the one who hadn't been doing much, moved  
to intercept him.

"Wait. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to inspect the contents of  
that container," he said.

"We're in kind of a hurry here," Agito said calmly. "Could  
you just pass us through?"

"Sorry, no can do," the Zoanoid said, sounding genuinely contrite.  
"It's regulation down here at the final checkpoint. Jonsey would have my  
balls on a platter if I let you guys get through without a thorough  
inspection."

"Jonsey?" Agito asked, echoing Sho's own silent query.

"Yeah, head of security for this area. If you haven't had at least a  
run in with him by now you should consider yourself lucky," the Zoanoid  
shuddered slightly. "Guy might be just a puny little human, but when he  
starts going off on you that's kind of an easy thing to forget."

"Oh yeah," the other Zoanoid piped up. "Psycho drill-sergeant  
guy. I swear, if he didn't somehow manage to stay on Dr. Balkus' good side I'd  
rip out his entrails and make confetti out of them."

"Yeah, well I think a lot of us feel that way about him," the first  
Zoanoid said, chuckling. "Especially right after we've been chewed out by  
him. So, sorry kids, Uncle Gregole's going to have to have to see what's  
inside that container so he doesn't end up getting his head bitten off by Aunt  
Jonsey."

The other Zoanoid started laughing raucously once Gregole had finished  
speaking. "That's a nice way to say the man's a nagging bitch,  
Greg."

Gregole grinned. Agito swore inwardly, knowing that he would have to think  
very quickly to avoid having Mizuki discovered by these two Zoanoids.

"So if one of you would just open up that container and let us have a  
look, you guys can be on your way and we can get back to our boring lives,"  
Gregole said.

"I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to open this container,"  
Agito said smoothly.

"Why not? You guy's carrying something in there that could get you in  
trouble here?" Gregole asked.

"Like maybe a woman?" the other Zoanoid suggested, his voice  
positively dripping with lewd innuendo.

Gregole chuckled, as inside the case Mizuki shuddered. "Well, if it _is_  
a woman you have in there, can you do us all a favor and let Jonsey have first  
crack at her? The man needs a good boinking to get his head on straight."

That sent the other Zoanoid into a fit of laughter again.

"Heh. All jokes aside, though, this is a rush job," Agito said  
calmly. "Besides, we've both been strictly cautioned not to expose the  
inside materials to air. If the contents of this container are spoiled, we're  
the ones who will end up taking the heat for that."

"Hold on a sec, I'll contact the basement," Gregole said.  
"Just don't go trying to run off on me."

He'd meant it to be a joke, Agito could tell, but he probably didn't know  
just how close to home his little joke had hit for them. Sho was a bit more  
nervous than Agito, having gotten used to the way all of the other Zoanoids  
stationed at the other checkpoints would just have a look at the shipping  
manifest when he or Agito handed it to them, and then pass them through.

"What's the matter with you?" the other Zoanoid asked, managing  
to sound genuinely concerned.

_   
__ _

_+Fukamachi!+_ Agito shouted over the Guyver-link.

"What?" Sho asked, deliberately pitching his voice a few octaves  
lower.

"You're shaking," the other Zoanoid said. "And you're  
dripping with sweat. Don't tell me it was Jonsey that gave you your orders not  
to open the crate."

"Him? Oh yeah, it _was_ him," Sho lied.

"I swear, that guy is desperately in need of a personality," the  
other Zoanoid commiserated. "But he sure does make an impression."

"Yeah, if you consider having combat boots rammed up your ass 'making  
an impression'," Gregole grumbled. "Anyway, I had a talk with old  
man Odagiri. And he says you've got stuff for him that can't take being  
outside in the open air, too. So I guess you boys get a free pass-through. Nice  
cushy job you guys managed to land yourselves there. Old man Odagiri might be a  
bit of a crackpot, but I'd rather work for him than for Jonsey."

"Thanks," Agito said flatly, nodding.

"All right, you guys can get on your way now," Gregole said, waving  
them through.

Agito nodded, then he and Sho stepped out of the elevator and calmly walked  
past the two Zoanoids. Inside the container, Mizuki tried to calm her racing  
heart. That had been close, but now that they had all managed to make it through  
the last of the checkpoints the danger was most likely over. In fact, Mizuki was  
hoping to meet up with Tetsuro soon so she could tell him how much she had  
missed him.

The sound of their footsteps mingled with the sound of the wheels rolling on  
the metal floors, a sound Sho was quickly becoming bored with. But he knew that  
once they were all inside the basement of Relics Point they would probably start  
planning ways to restart their attacks on Chronos, something that would most  
definitely not be boring in the slightest. And after all the close calls he had  
had while trying to get down into the basement in the first place, Sho was  
perfectly happy just to be bored for awhile.

The doors to the checkpoint slid open easily once they passed the sensors in  
the floor, and Agito and Sho continued on their way. Sho could now see that  
their destination was yet another elevator.

_   
__ _

_+Is this the last elevator we're going to have to use?+ _Sho asked.

_   
__ _

_+Yes. This will transport us directly into the basement of Relics Point. Why  
do you ask?+_

__

_+I was just wondering when we were going to be able to meet up with Tetsuro,  
Mr. Murakami and the others, that's all.+_

_   
__ _

_+We will be able to see all of them again very shortly,+ _Agito said  
calmly.


	25. Rebels

Sho nodded wordlessly as they both stepped into the elevator and Agito  
pressed the button. The doors slid closed with the expected lack of noise, and  
Sho shifted from foot to foot to try and work off some of his restless energy.  
Agito seemed to be perfectly able to tolerate the long waits and the encounters  
with various Zoanoids that they had had to deal with. But then he'd probably  
been working for Chronos since before Sho had even met him.

Sho had only been inside Mt. Minakami once, during the mission to rescue his  
father that had ended in events that Sho still didn't want to think about, and  
even then it hadn't lasted anywhere near this long. This was like something  
out of a surreal dream; not quite a nightmare but something that Sho was sure  
that he never wanted to have to do again. Sho wasn't even sure that they _would_  
ever be able to do something like this again.

Sooner or later, someone who worked for Chronos would have to notice that  
there were holes in their security. Holes big enough for… well for a Guyver to  
slip in and out of. Only in this case it wasn't just one Guyver who was  
slipping in and out of the holes in Chronos' security, it was two Guyvers, a  
Zoalord, and a small group of humans. They had to notice sometime that something  
was going on, but Sho knew that he would just have to hope that they all got out  
of this place alive again.

But nonetheless, this was probably the last time that he and Agito would be  
able to simply slip on a pair of Zoanoid disguises and go strolling merrily  
right into a Chronos stronghold. Feeling a slight jolt run through the elevator,  
Sho looked up just in time to see the doors opening. Taking his turn to push the  
case with Mizuki inside it, Sho followed Agito out into the main area of the  
basement level of Relics Point.

The first thing Sho noticed, aside from the sheer size of the place, was the  
huge purple lump in the center of the room. It looked just like a small hill  
made out of smooth purple rock. There were poles and wires sticking either in to  
or out of the "hill", as if they were trying to hold it in place for  
something. Sho couldn't begin to guess just what the purple thing was or what  
it could be for.

But then whatever it was wasn't all that important to Sho right now,  
compared with meeting up with all of the others who were hiding from Chronos  
down here. So Sho tried to put the thing he had just seen out of his mind. It  
wasn't all that hard, considering where he was going and who he was meeting up  
with again. Suddenly remembering just what Mr. Murakami had been through in the  
past few days, Sho resolved to try to give him at least something that he could  
hold on to.

Even if it was only the hope of getting revenge on Chronos for all that they  
had done to him. As he and Agito headed for a doorway that was about as  
nondescript as possible, Sho saw that there was a plaque above this particular  
doorway. It read: Basement; Relic Research and Analysis Laboratory. Director:  
Sumio Odagiri. Sho shuddered slightly, but then he remembered what Agito had  
said about all of the scientists in the basement being their allies.

It was something of a comfort factor for Sho to know something like that,  
since without that knowledge he would have probably panicked and given them all  
away by now. Panicked like he had when Guyot had shown up so suddenly. Taking  
another couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, Sho continued walking. They  
passed four things that looked a little like recycling bins, and Sho briefly  
wondered just what they were for.

Then they were standing in front of the doorway, and there was no more time  
for Sho to think about things that didn't really matter. The scientist who  
greeted Sho and Agito at the door when it slid open was about as nondescript as  
the door itself.

"Ah, good. You've brought the requested materials," he said,  
wearing a curious sort of halfsmile. "Come with me, I'll show you where  
you can drop them off."

Agito nodded, and Sho wondered just what kind of double-speak he was missing.  
As the two of them, or three depending on just how much someone knew about their  
group, walked deeper into the laboratory Sho couldn't help but notice that a  
lot of the scientists were either studiously ignoring them or taking brief looks  
and then going back to whatever it was that they were doing. It was kind of  
strange, Sho thought, to be walking around inside a Chronos laboratory in a pair  
of stolen uniforms and to be almost completely ignored. As he followed Agito  
deeper into the laboratory, Sho wondered just when they were going to get to  
meet this Sumio Odagiri.

As it turned out, Prof. Odagiri was in fact the next person in the laboratory  
to directly acknowledge their presence.

"Welcome to the basement of Relics Point," the man said, with the  
same kind of curious halfsmile as the first scientist who had first greeted  
them. "Sho Fukamachi and Agito Makashima. I expect you'll want to remove  
those, I hear they can be quite uncomfortable."

Agito was the first to remove his helmet, followed quickly by Sho. Agito  
smiled graciously at the man in front of them, so Sho felt that it might be safe  
to let himself calm down at least a little.

"Hello again, Professor Odagiri," Agito said. "Sho, this is  
Professor Sumio Odagiri, he runs most of the laboratories on this level. He is  
also the one who's been sheltering all of us from Chronos for the last three  
days."

Professor Odagiri was a fairly tall man, somewhere in his mid-to-late  
thirties with dark brown hair that had only started going gray. He had thick  
eyebrows, and he wore glasses that reminded Sho a lot of Tetsuro. As Professor  
Odagiri turned his attention to Sho, Sho tried not to show just how nervous he  
was about being here. Agito was calm about it, after all, so there was probably  
no real reason for Sho to be so apprehensive around this man.

"It's very nice to meet you, Professor," Sho said, and despite  
his best efforts, his voice still quavered a little when he spoke.

"Um, could someone get me out of here? Please?" came a plaintive  
voice from inside the case itself.

"Oh!" Sho exclaimed, remembering. "I'm sorry about that,  
Mizuki."

Sho hurried over to the still closed case on the floor. Quickly undoing the  
latches that held it closed, Sho quickly moved back once Mizuki started getting  
out on her own.

"Thanks, Sho," Mizuki said quietly.

"Sho! Hey Sho!"

"Tetsuro!" Sho turned around quickly, just in time to see the  
smiling face of one of his best friends from before all of this had started.

"It's so good to see you again," Tetsuro said, his smile widening  
into a grin. "Hi, Mizuki," he said, waving to his sister as she stood  
up for the first time in a long while.

"Tetsuro!" Mizuki cried, throwing herself into the arms of her  
brother. "Sho risked his life to protect me, just like last time. I  
probably would have gotten killed if it hadn't been for Sho."

Tetsuro smiled softly. "I told you he loved you, Mizuki," he said,  
softly enough that Sho only caught the fact that he was speaking and not the  
actual words.

"I know that now, Tetsuro," Mizuki muttered softly, closing her  
eyes and nuzzling her head into her brother's chest.

Sho had to smile himself when he saw the heartwarming picture that the two of  
them presented. He might not have known exactly what they were saying to each  
other, but it was clear for anyone to see that they were very happy to be  
reunited.

"I'd also like to thank you for taking such good care of my sister,  
Sho," Tetsuro said, turning his smile back on Sho. "You're a great  
friend."

"Thank you, Tetsuro," Sho said, blushing slightly. "Have you  
seen Mr. Murakami lately, or has he been resting all this time?"

Tetsuro's smile faltered, and this was the first indication Sho had that  
things weren't quite as normal as he had at first thought. "Mr. Murakami…  
Sho, Mr. Murakami had to use up most of his energy when Commander Guyot attacked  
us."

"Yeah, Agito told me how he kept chasing you after we all split up from  
each other," Sho said. "What happened to him? I thought he would at  
least be awake by now."

"Sho," the calm voice of Prof. Odagiri intruded on Sho and Tetsuro's  
discussion. "Would you mind stepping over here for a moment, please?"

"Not at all," Sho said, following Prof. Odagiri over to one of the  
closed doors toward the back of the laboratory.


	26. Murakami

Keying in his entry-code, Prof. Odagiri waited a second for the door to fully  
open before he stepped through, Sho following closely behind him. Inside this  
new room was a single processing-tank, and Sho wondered just why Prof. Odagiri  
wanted him to look at a Zoanoid when what he had wanted to know was what had  
happened to Mr. Murakami. Then, just as he was about to ask Prof. Odagiri what  
was going on, Sho saw that it wasn't a Zoanoid inside that processing-tank  
after all.

At first Sho had a bit of trouble recognizing just who _was_ inside that  
particular processing-tank, but then recognition snapped into place and he  
gasped.

"Mr. Murakami?! What- what happened to him, Prof. Odagiri?"

"Murakami was injured in addition to being exhausted by his battle with  
the Commander," Prof. Odagiri said, as he looked back at the unconscious  
form of his late colleague's old friend and one-time student. "Commander Guyot  
was rather personally annoyed that one of his own prototypes could have  
survived and done so much damage to Chronos without him somehow being aware of  
it. More than that, Murakami also seemed to have some personal grudge to settle  
with Commander Guyot."

"Because of his son," Sho muttered sadly, staring at the alien  
figure suspended in the processing fluid.

"Kenji? What happened to him?" Odagiri asked, concerned.

"That bastard Commander Guyot kidnapped him," Tetsuro said, as he  
too walked into the room that held Masaki Murakami in his stasis sleep.  
"Then, during the battle, he actually had the nerve to taunt Mr. Murakami  
about the fact that he'd done it. Mr. Murakami was pretty angry about that,  
which I can sympathize with, but it did make him a bit sloppy while he was  
fighting."

Tetsuro's fists were both clenched tightly and he was leveling a scathing,  
hateful glare at nothing in particular, both of those being sure signs that  
Tetsuro was extremely angry at Guyot for what the Zoalord had done. Come to think  
of it Sho was too, but more than that he was sad for both Kenji and Mr. Murakami  
for what had happened to them. Sad for Mr. Murakami because he had lost the only  
family member he had had left to Chronos. And sad for Kenji because he had  
probably ended up dying alone and afraid, buried alive at the bottom of a  
mountain.

Sho sighed and just continued to stare at the unconscious form of Mr.  
Murakami, as if he could convey his sympathy without words to someone who wasn't  
even awake to speak to him or to see his face. It was probably a stupid idea,  
but Sho wasn't sure just what else he could do at the moment.

"Prof. Odagiri?" Sho asked, trying to keep his mind off of other  
things. "What did you mean when you said that Mr. Murakami was Guyot's  
prototype?"

"Murakami was never a real Zoalord, Sho," Odagiri said. "He  
was only a prototype. What's known in Chronos circles as a Proto-Zoalord. In  
this case, one of the Proto-Zoalords that was used to further the development of  
Commander Guyot's Zoalord body. He has all the basic powers of a real Zoalord,  
but only at half strength when compared to a full Zoalord like Guyot or any of  
the others."

"And Mr. Murakami's nowhere near as ugly as Guyot in his Zoalord  
form," Tetsuro said, the slight maliciousness in his tone obviously  
directed at Guyot. "Or Proto-Zoalord form in Mr. Murakami's case."

"Guyot's Zoalord form was ugly, huh?" Sho asked, getting into the  
spirit of things, if only to take his mind off Mr. Murakami's condition.

"_Hideous_," Tetsuro said, grinning. "He was a bit taller  
than Mr. Murakami when they both transformed. But Guyot was white with red  
undertones, and he had a face that could stop a train."

Sho laughed, and Tetsuro was quick to join in. They might have been one of  
the most dangerous places on Earth, more so for them since they were active and  
well-known rebels, but it felt good to be able to forget that fact for a minute.

"Tetsuro," Sho said, once he'd managed to regain control of  
himself. "Just what happened when Guyot attacked you? Agito didn't really  
tell me that much about it."

"What _did_ he tell you?"

"Agito told me that the last attack Guyot used on you was a gravity wave,  
but he didn't say anything about Guyot taunting Mr. Murakami about his  
son," Sho said.

Tetsuro sighed. "After Guyot sicced those Enzyme IIs on you and you and  
Mizuki ran off, he want after the rest of us. Agito of course was already in  
Guyver form, and then Mr. Murakami transformed too. He said that there was very  
little chance of a single Guyver being able to fight off a Zoalord all on his  
own."

Tetsuro took a deep breath, took another look at the processing-tank that  
held Mr. Murakami, and then started speaking again. "He was right about  
that, since Guyot was even stronger in his Zoalord form than he was as a human.  
It took both Agito and Mr. Murakami working together just to hold him off, and  
even then they couldn't beat him. Not even with Guyver III's Mega-Smasher  
and Mr. Murakami's Incision Wave."

"Incision Wave?" Sho asked.

"It's the name of that weapon Mr. Murakami used on the Enzyme IIs that  
attacked us in the forest after we tried to escape from Takeshiro the first  
time."

"Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about that. What happened after  
Agito and Mr. Murakami tried their attacks?" Sho asked.

"That was when Guyot used his gravity wave on us," Tetsuro said.  
"It completely tore apart the ground where we were standing. It was just a  
little before that that Mr. Murakami ended up losing his right arm. If Mr.  
Murakami hadn't used his forcefield to shield us, we all probably would have  
died. Even then, I wasn't really sure how we were going to survive."

"How _did_ you all end up down here?" Sho asked.

"Mr. Murakami shouted for all of us to get behind him, once he saw that Guyot  
was getting ready to attack us again. Then he activated his forcefield and  
told Agito to use his Gravity Controller. At that time, I was wondering just  
what good it would do to use one of the Guyver's _weaker_ attacks against  
Guyot when it had already been proven that the strongest attack wouldn't do  
anything," Tetsuro said.

"What did Mr. Murakami want Agito to use it for? Did he really want to  
attack Guyot with it?" Sho asked.

"No," Tetsuro said. "As it turned out, Mr. Murakami wanted  
Agito to use the Pressure Cannon to blast our way through the ground where we  
were all standing. Guyot's gravity wave actually ended up giving us a nice  
smoke-screen to hide behind when we escaped," Tetsuro chuckled at the irony  
of that. "I don't really know how deep underground we ended up before Mr.  
Murakami passed out, but for a second I thought we were all going to end up  
buried alive down there," Tetsuro sighed heavily. "We weren't, of  
course. When Agito noticed that Mr. Murakami had lost consciousness, he blasted  
a hole in the surrounding rock. I didn't know what he was doing at the time,  
so I almost tried to stop him. But he held me back, and we all ended up inside  
an old monorail tunnel."

"Oh, like the one Agito, Mizuki and I used to get into Mt.  
Minakami," Sho said.

"Probably the very same one," Tetsuro said, nodding. "Agito  
said that it was one of the old monorail lines that used to be used to deliver  
supplies to Mt. Minakami. He also said that it wasn't in service anymore, so  
when one of the monorail cars started coming down the tunnel we were all  
understandably surprised."

"I'll bet," Sho said sympathetically.

"Though at first we didn't know that it was one of the monorail cars  
that had startled us, all that we could see was a light heading for us, and all  
that we heard was a loud rushing sound. Agito had been carrying Mr. Murakami,  
since he was the strongest one in the group, but then he handed him over to me  
and started to open the Mega-Smasher," Tetsuro paused for a breath and Sho  
waited patiently for Tetsuro to pick up his narrative again. "That was when  
Prof. Odagiri called out to us and told us that they were our allies. We haven't  
talked to him much since then, but he said that he would tell us as much as he  
knew about Mr. Murakami's past once you and the others got here."

"He did?" Sho asked.

"Yes, Sho, I did," Prof. Odagiri said. "We scientists who work  
in the basement have our own eating area, presumably to keep us out of the other  
scientists' hair. But it does have other advantages that the others are not  
aware of. If you would be willing to meet me in there, I can tell you about the  
things that Murakami hasn't yet."

"Thank you, Prof. Odagiri," Sho said. Then he had a thought.  
"Wait, Tetsuro said that Mr. Murakami had lost his right arm when he fought  
against Commander Guyot," Sho said, as he looked over the whole and  
undamaged form of Mr. Murakami in the processing-tank. "How did Mr.  
Murakami get his arm back if he lost it in that battle?"

"A lot of that was my work," Prof. Odagiri said with some pride.  
"By using impetus chemicals to stimulate cellular division, we were able to  
restore his lost right arm to full working condition."

"Then why is he still unconscious?" Sho demanded. "Can't you  
help him?"

"I'm not a miracle worker, Sho," Prof. Odagiri sighed. "My  
old mentor and I, we refused to work on Zoanoid models for Chronos. The only  
reason Prof. Yamamura, my old mentor, worked on the Proto-Zoalord project was  
because he was forced. I'm afraid I wouldn't know much more than you do  
about the inner workings of Murakami's Proto-Zoalord form."

"Oh," Sho said sadly.


	27. Contingency

"Professor," called one of the other scientists from his post at a  
monitoring station. "Commander Guyot is coming again."

"Is he headed for this room?" Prof. Odagiri asked, remarkably  
calmly Sho thought.

"No. It looks as if he's heading for Dr. Shirai's laboratory, as  
usual," the scientist said.

"Good," Prof. Odagiri said.

"Dr. Shirai? Who is he?" Sho asked.

"Dr. Shirai is the actual head scientist on this level," Tetsuro  
explained. "But he's one of those obsessive types, thinks about nothing  
but his work."

"I couldn't have put it better myself, Tetsuro," Prof. Odagiri  
said, nodding and smiling slightly. "I may run this level in Dr. Shirai's  
absence, but he is still considered the head of this division."

"Oh," Sho said, turning to look at the video of Guyot walking past  
the purple hill and out of sight, seeming to be heading for another closed door.

XxXxX

As he made his way past the Relic spacecraft that had been concealed beneath  
Mt. Minakami since even before the base here had been built, Commander Guyot casually fingered the disk he'd concealed in his jacket pocket. Dr. Shirai's  
personal laboratory was ideally suited for clandestine projects, such as the  
Unit Remover. And now, it would serve as the ideal place to conceal the new  
Zoalord body he was going to develop for Murakami's son.

Because while Murakami and that annoying Makashima were dead now, Sho  
Fukamachi and all of those at Chronos who would oppose his plans were not. The  
Murakami boy would be useful when he finally made his move against Alkanphel and  
his supporters. And, while it was rather disappointing that he wouldn't be  
able to take the Third Guyver for his own, the Fukamachi boy was still in  
possession of the First. Guyot knew Guyvers well enough to say with some degree  
of certainty that Fukamachi would find some way to survive against the Enzyme  
IIs that Guyot had sent after him.

Reaching the center of the room, Guyot stopped suddenly as he felt something  
pass through his head. Some feeling. If he had still been human, Guyot would have  
called it a headache. But he wasn't human anymore, and there was some kind of  
strange resonance along with the spiking pain in his head. If he'd any in his  
lifetime to compare it to, Guyot might have been able to say that this –  
whatever it was – was like a migraine. The flashing lights and shooting pain  
were almost identical.

But Guyot had never had anything like that to compare this to, and so all he  
knew now was that he wanted it to _stop_. His breath was becoming short,  
and Guyot reached up and clamped his hands to his head. Alternately pulling at  
his hair and digging his nails into his scalp to try and take his mind off the  
pain, Guyot nearly fell to his knees as the pain intensified and he gasped for  
air.

Not having any kind of reflective surface nearby, or much presence of mind to  
focus on anything but the agony in his head, Guyot couldn't know that his   
Zoacrystal was glowing brightly enough to be seen even through his human  
skin. Biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, Guyot tried to  
focus on breathing to the exclusion of all else. By now the pain was so great it  
was starting to make his vision blur, and for a moment Guyot thought he might  
pass out from the intensity of it. At this point Guyot would have welcomed the  
bliss of unconsciousness with open arms.

And then, miraculously, it all stopped. The pain knifing its way through his  
head abated to nothing, and the feeling of not being able to get enough air into  
his lungs went with it. Guyot breathed deeply, slowly regaining his bearings and  
his sense of self. Looking over at the dormant Relic, Guyot could just hear the  
end of a massive vibration winding down. _What was that? Is it possible that  
the Relic and my Zoacrystal could have been in resonation with each other  
somehow?_

__

_Beyond that… no, it couldn't be possible, Murakami and Makashima are both  
dead! _Yes, that had to be true. No one and nothing could have survived his  
final Gravity Wave attack, least of all those rebels or the useless humans that  
had been traveling with Murakami and Makashima. So there was no reason for him  
to consider the ridiculous possibility that those annoying rebels had become the  
first to actually do so. Still, the strange resonance that had developed between  
his Zoacrystal and the Relic was slightly unsettling.

Guyot blew out a breath, his mien slightly annoyed. Annoyed that he had been  
diverted from his goal by something that was both intensely painful and would  
probably prove to be completely useless. He continued on his way to Dr. Shirai's  
personal laboratory. Once he stood at the door, Guyot decided that he would also  
make an inquiry about the status of the Unit Remover. It wouldn't do to have  
Dr. Shirai become suspicious about his motivations, after all.

The man may have been an irksome, aggravating, sniveling little cockroach,  
but for the moment he was still useful to Guyot's overall plans. That thought  
caused a secretive smirk to work its way onto Guyot's face. Perhaps, once he  
had fully fashioned the Murakami boy into a Zoalord loyal to him, Guyot would  
give him all the knowledge he needed to become a competent replacement for both  
Dr. Shirai and that annoying Balkus. Guyot chuckled. _Yes, that idea definitely  
appeals to me. I think I will do that._

Now that he stood in front of the door to Dr. Shirai's laboratory, Guyot keyed in his entrance code and walked inside. There were strange sounds coming  
from the glass case where Dr. Shirai had helped him to hide the Remover when he  
had dug it out of its resting place in the Relic and brought it the man in the  
first place. Shirai seemed to be very excited about something, pacing and  
muttering to himself as he always did when he had either found something  
extremely important, or even when he just thought that he had.

"I must report this to Commander Guyot at once!" Shirai said  
enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together with obvious glee.

When he turned around to leave his laboratory, he didn't notice that Guyot was standing right in front of him. Shirai ended up walking right into him in  
what Guyot thought would have been a good scene for one of those idiotic sitcoms  
that he hated so much. Firmly reigning in his urge to smash Shirai's skull, Guyot  
straightened his coat in an effort to distract himself while Shirai made an  
effort to gather his wits. Such as they were.

"What in blazes are you doing in my… Oh! Commander Guyot!" Shirai  
was obviously both flustered and surprised. "I was just going to go and get  
you."

Shirai was smiling, and for a moment Guyot wondered if his missing teeth were  
due to poor dental hygiene or if someone had finally gotten fed up with his  
inane blather and punched him in the mouth. It was an interesting thing to  
consider, and it also kept Guyot's mind off of a few of the more painful things  
that he would have liked to do to the man.

"What did you intend to tell me, doctor?"

"Oh, yes," Shirai nodded sycophantically. "The Remover. It  
reacted to that strange, powerful vibration that was emitted from the Relic five  
minutes ago," here Shirai paused, looking at Guyot. "You _did_  
notice that vibration, didn't you Commander?"

_   
__ _

_Idiot. Of course I noticed it, seeing as I was probably the one to cause it  
in the first place. _"I noticed it," Guyot said neutrally.

"Well, the Remover was somehow activated when that massive vibration  
from the Relic ensued," Shirai said. "I was only going to ask you to  
come down here so you could test if this theory of mine will pan out."

"What do you need me to do?" Guyot asked.

"If you could just transform into your Zoalord form," Shirai rubbed  
his hands together, evidently expecting something. "We could find out if  
the Remover will respond to your bio-energy. I have found that it runs on  
bio-energy, but I am still not sure if it will respond to your own bio-energy,  
Commander. I mean to say that I am fairly sure that it will, but there are still  
other factors that I have not yet managed to determine-"

Shirai was rambling to himself, something that annoyed Guyot to no end, so Guyot  
tuned him out and focused on the one important thing that Shirai had said  
in his entire idiotic spiel. Removing his jacket, since he rather doubted that  
the disk that had in the pocket could withstand being exposed to the energies of  
subspace, Guyot draped it over one of the freestanding computer consoles that  
Shirai had set up in the room.

The laboratory itself was a haphazard scattering of freestanding computer  
consoles amid various bundles of wires and cables. There were any number of  
things to trip on, and the one time Balkus had visited he had taken one look at  
the mess and had never come back again. So in a way, Guyot was glad that for all  
the detritus on the floor, for all the myriad tripping hazards that were  
everywhere that one might try to put their feet. It meant that he had to be  
careful how he walked, true, but it also kept Balkus out of his hair.

Once Guyot was sure he was rid of everything that he did not want to expose to  
the unpredictable energies of subspace, Guyot focused his thoughts down to a  
single point. He felt his inner energies respond, and then Guyot started to feel  
the familiar and exhilarating sensation of his body growing larger and more  
powerful. His thirty-nine Zoacrystals emerged from their hiding places in his  
human flesh. Guyot could feel it when his transformation into his Zoalord form  
was complete, as the claws sprouted from the ends of his fingers to replace his  
useless fingernails.

"Now, what was it you wanted me to do?" Guyot asked, his voice now  
sounding like that of an apocalyptic doomsday machine instead of his usual low,  
husky tones.

"I want to see if the Remover will respond to your bio-energy, Commander  
Guyot," Shirai said.

Guyot was thankful that at least this time Shirai had the sense to shut up  
once he had said what he needed to. Walking over to the glass case that held the  
Unit Remover, Guyot carefully hit the release button with his clawed finger. The  
case opened without fuss, or even much sound, and soon Guyot noticed that the  
Remover was indeed reacting to something. Whether or not it would react the same  
way to Guyot's own bio-energy was still to be discovered, though.

If it didn't, Guyot would lean heavily on Shirai to discover an alternate  
means to control the Remover. And he would also step up the development of the  
Murakami boy's Zoalord body. After all it was always better to have more than  
one trump card, especially when dealing with someone as powerful as Alkanphel  
was rumored to be. But all of that would be a consequence of his _not_  
being able to use the Remover for some reason. It was Guyot's intention to be  
able to possess the Remover and use it for his own purposes.


	28. Development

Guyot picked the Remover up by what looked to be its base, and was only  
slightly surprised to discover that what he had taken to be the back of the  
Remover was in actuality its front. The front of the Remover opened up to reveal  
a long, intricately carved structure with what looked like an exact copy of a  
Guyver's Control Medal on the end of it. The back end opened up as well, and Guyot  
stuck his hand inside. He was pleased to discover that the Remover did  
indeed have a handle.

It was hidden inside the back of the device, yes, but at least it was still  
there. Once Guyot had wrapped his large hand around the Remover's handle, a set  
of five matched antennae extended from the Remover. Three from the outside of  
the casing and two from the inside of the device, one on either side of the  
Control Medal lookalike. _An interesting configuration,_ Guyot thought to  
himself. _I wonder just how this device works._

__

_Well, time enough to figure that out later, I suppose._ Guyot smirked. Now  
all he needed to do was find out just where that annoying Guyver I had managed  
to hide himself, and then all his plans would be one step closer to fruition.

"You have done most admirable work, as usual, Dr. Shirai," Guyot said, since he had found that the man had always responded best to flattery.  
"I thank you."

As he transformed back into his human form, Guyot set the Remover back in its  
case almost reverently. One piece of his plan had gone just as he had wanted it  
to, and now Guyot intended to move on to the next. He still needed to design a  
Zoalord body for Murakami's son, after all. Walking over to one of the  
computer consoles that actually _wasn't_ being used for anything that Guyot  
could readily see, he inserted the disk in a terminal and sat down on the  
only chair in the room.

It was one of those wheeled, office-type chairs, convenient for getting  
around quickly. But Guyot couldn't help the thought that it would have been a  
great deal more so on a surface that was covered so thickly by cables and wires.  
Guyot wondered for a moment just how many times Shirai had had to pick this chair  
up and carry it, so as to avoid one clump of wires or another on the floor.  
Pushing aside those pointless thoughts, Guyot turned his attention to what he was  
really concentrating on here.

Thinking of how the Murakami boy's face and body had looked when he had  
seen him in the processing-tank, Guyot had a rather interesting inspiration.  
Balkus, who was the one that had created most if not all of the other Zoalords'  
battle forms – even his own as Guyot recalled – had never created something  
that Guyot had personally found aesthetically appealing. Now that he was creating  
a Zoalord of his own, there was no reason that he had to follow the same pattern  
that Balkus had established.

Looking over at Shirai, Guyot found that the old scientist had been  
predictably absorbed by his research again. In fact, Guyot was willing to wager  
that he could have done anything short of exploding a bomb in Shirai's ear  
without distracting the old man from whatever he was doing now. Smiling with  
self-satisfaction, Guyot called up the data on the disk that he had brought into  
the laboratory with him.

It was a base design for a certain Proto-Zoalord form, Murakami's own in  
fact. While he might hate the man a great deal on general principal, Guyot had to  
admit that Murakami's battle-form was a fair amount more aesthetically  
pleasing than his own. Balkus' work of course. Some things would have to be  
changed, of course, since even Murakami's battle-form wasn't altogether  
pleasing to his eyes. Guyot huffed, lacing his fingers together and resting his  
chin on them.

The face was the first thing that Guyot intended to change, since he barely  
found it appealing at all. It was too wide for one thing, and for another there  
was that cleft in the chin. Guyot disliked those since he found them a bit  
visually distracting. And then there was also the fact that Murakami's son's  
face was both too sharp-featured and too rounded to benefit from being  
rearranged like that. Typing in a few commands, Guyot got the computer to focus  
on the Proto-Zoalord's face.

As he made his desired changes to the Proto-Zoalord's genetic structure,  
the image changed to reflect what he had done. The Proto-Zoalord's face  
narrowed until it was almost exactly the same shape as it was in Murakami's  
son's human form. Satisfied with what he had done so far, Guyot looked over the  
other features. The Proto-Zoalord's face was a fair amount more square-jawed  
than that of Murakami's son, so Guyot changed it until it looked exactly like  
his human form.

Nodding with some pride for his accomplishments, Guyot turned his attention to  
the facial markings that he had noticed. Without the cleft in the chin there was  
really no reason to keep the triangle of under-armor that showed through on the  
chin itself, so Guyot removed it. This action gave the lower half of the face an  
almost mask-like appearance, which Guyot personally preferred over the original.  
As Guyot considered the other attributes of the Proto-Zoalord's face, he  
decided to dispense with the under-armor on the underside of the chin and around  
the eyes as well.

Making some more changes to the Proto-Zoalord's genetic structure, Guyot watched in satisfaction as the under-armor was covered. The face now had a  
definite mask-like look to it. All that now remained of the under-armor on the  
face were those parts on the top of the head near the main Zoacrystal, the strip  
down the center of the nose, and the two oddly teardrop-shaped patches under the  
eyes.

Considering the face again, Guyot found that he thought the 'teardrops'  
made the face look almost like one of those clown dolls with porcelain heads  
that his mother used to collect. The ones whose name he could never remember.  
Making a few more minute changes, Guyot watched as the patches extended and  
changed shape until they resembled a pair of slash marks. Or alternately a pair  
of crescent moons, if one was in the mood to be poetic about such things.

Now that he had made all the desired changes to the face, Guyot turned his  
attention to the long structures that extended from both the underside and the  
top of the ears. The way they stuck out so far, while it was almost exactly the  
same as his own battle-form, wasn't very appealing to Guyot personally.  
Altering another part of the Proto-Zoalord's DNA, Guyot watched as the  
Proto-Zoalord's ear structures – Guyot didn't know what else to call them  
– slowly came into line with his head.

Once Guyot was satisfied with the changes he had made to that one part, Guyot  
input a simple command and the computer turned the Proto-Zoalord's head so  
that Guyot was able to see it as if he was looking at it from the left side.  
Seeing how the ear-structures stuck almost straight out from the back of the  
head, Guyot considered them. Changing the genetic structure again, Guyot watched  
as they curved gracefully upward until they resembled the crest of some exotic  
bird.

Now that his work on the head was complete, there was only the matter of the  
body.


	29. Nightmare

_   
__ _

_The forest around Kenji's tent was darker than Masaki remembered it being,  
and this was even with the sun still clearly in the sky. The shadows under the  
trees almost seemed alive, and even his enhance vision somehow wasn't able to  
penetrate them. All of these things combined to give Masaki a very unsettling  
feeling as he made his way back to Kenji's tent. There was something he was  
supposed to be remembering right now, but for the life of him Masaki couldn't  
think what it was._

__

_"Dad! Dad!"_

__

_"Kenji? Where are you?!"_

__

_"Dad!"_

__

_"Kenji!"_

__

_Masaki looked around frantically. Kenji's voice had sounded panicked. But  
all he could see were the oddly writhing shadows under the trees and the eerily  
dark sky._

__

_"Kenji! I can't find you!"_

__

_"Dad! Help me!"_

__

_Suddenly, Kenji's calls were cut off. Masaki could still hear his son's  
muffled cries, but the words were no longer intelligible. Masaki didn't waste  
any time thinking about it, he just took off at a dead-run. The trees were  
green-and-brown blurs to either side of him as Masaki put his full Proto-Zoalord  
enhanced-speed to good use. But still, no matter how fast he ran there always  
seemed to more trees in his path._

__

_Finally he came to a clearing. But standing in the clearing next to the  
kneeling, shivering form of his only son was the one person who Masaki hated  
most in the world: Richard Guyot, Regional Commander of the Chronos Corporation.  
Kenji's arms were wrapped around himself and he was rocking back and forth,  
both sure signs of Kenji's extreme distress. Guyot, the miserable son of a  
venereal bitch, was actually looking down at Kenji with amusement._

__

_Masaki wanted nothing more than to kill him, preferably as slowly and  
painfully as would be possible._

__

_"What have you done to my son, you motherfucking bastard?!" Masaki  
demanded, his voice raw with hatred._

__

_Guyot only turned to look down at Kenji, his amusement even more pronounced.  
Kenji slowly stood up, and Masaki noticed that there was a thin trail of blood  
running out of the right side of his son's mouth. Masaki realized then that he  
couldn't see Kenji's eyes, his bangs were too short to cover them but  
somehow the eyes themselves were still in shadow. Kenji took a shaky step  
forward as blood continued to drip off of his chin._

__

_His ragged breathing became all too apparent to Masaki then, and the way he  
stumbled as he tried to walk made it obvious that there was something very wrong  
with his Kenji's body. Masaki felt as if cold hands had been plunged into his  
chest and were now wrapped tightly around his heart as he watched Kenji struggle  
forward. Masaki wanted to beg Kenji to stop, to tell Kenji that he was sick and  
to let Masaki help him._

__

_But he knew now that Kenji was beyond all help; Masaki was remembering at  
last that his son – his precious little boy – had been taken by that bastard  
Guyot into Mt. Minakami. What was standing in front of him wasn't even his son  
anymore, not really, it was just some Zoanoid who looked like him for the  
moment. Masaki could see the glow in Guyot's eyes and he knew better than most  
what it meant, but it was still hard to have to watch the transformation  
happening to someone he knew._

__

_Even watching Gray and Evans change hadn't affected him this way, but that  
was because Masaki had long ago accepted the fact that Chronos was capable of  
taking anyone and everyone close to him and changing them into a Zoanoid without  
warning. But with Kenji it had been different, Kenji was the one person that  
Masaki had sworn to protect above all others, the one person that Masaki had  
never believed could be taken by Chronos. Chronos, after all, had never seemed  
to have any interest in children. Least of all someone Kenji's age._

__

_That was what Masaki had always believed, or it had been up until the point  
where he'd come back to find the destroyed remains of Kenji's tent scattered  
all over the forest floor. There were claws just starting to sprout from the  
ends of Kenji's fingers now, and Masaki could see the white fur that was  
staring to grow in waves up and down Kenji's arms and legs. Then came a sound  
Masaki would never be able to forget: the sound of flesh tearing and bones being  
broken._

__

_This was the same sound that had let Masaki know that part of his life was  
over, this was the sound that Masaki had learned to recognize and to hate, this  
was the sound of a Zoanoid being born. But this time there came another sound,  
one that sounded like thick cardboard being repeatedly torn in half. Watching in  
horror, somehow not able to do anything more than that, Masaki saw Kenji's  
body literally tear itself apart from the inside out._

__

_Kenji's skin was the last part to give way, tearing like thin mesh as  
blood-soaked muscle tissue was forced apart by the growth of bones that were  
never supposed to exist in a human body. Kenji was dying in front of his eyes  
and all that Masaki could do was watch in helpless fury. As the last of Kenji's  
mangled wreck of a body fell to the ground, Masaki watched the remains  
disintegrate. Like all Zoanoids did when they were killed. The skull, ribcage  
and pelvic bone collapsed in on themselves, and Masaki saw the last of his son's  
blood ooze away into the ground._

__

_"Young children are always so very… fragile," Guyot said, sounding  
more amused than anything by what he had just seen._

__

_Masaki, finally free of his paralysis, lunged forward. Both hands  
outstretched and ready to strangle the son of a bitch, Masaki aimed for Guyot's  
throat and charged…_


	30. Secrets

Straight up out of bed. Hearing the blanket that had up till now been draped  
over him falling into his lap, Masaki looked frantically around the room. For a  
moment, he was still back in that illusory forest, watching that bastard Guyot mock him as his son Kenji died before his eyes. Then, when he realized that he  
couldn't sense Guyot anywhere near him, Masaki slumped back against the  
headboard of the bed.

There were cracks in the ceiling, Masaki noticed then, and he started  
absently to count them just to give himself something to do. _I think I'm  
having a bad day._ Masaki had gotten up to twenty-seven when he heard the  
pounding of footsteps that meant that someone was coming. A lot of people, it  
seemed, now that Masaki was coherent enough to pick up on the fact that there  
was more than one person running.

The door to his room burst open, and all of the people that Masaki had come  
to know so well over the time he had stayed with them came rushing in. Sho was  
the first one through the doorway, as Masaki had almost been expecting, followed  
quickly by Tetsuro, Mizuki, Makashima and Sumio. Masaki forced a smile, making  
himself project a confidence and ease that he didn't feel much at the moment.

"Mr. Murakami!" Sho, Mizuki, and Tetsuro called, obviously happy to  
see him up again.

Not quite back on his feet, but after all that he had been through Masaki  
wasn't going to complain about having to stay in bed for awhile. It was better  
than some of the alternatives, after all.

"Hi everyone," Masaki said, making at least some effort to cover  
the weariness he felt. Judging from the happy looks that the kids were giving  
him, he'd at least succeeded in that.

"How are you doing, Mr. Murakami?"

"I'm fine, Sho," Masaki lied, not wanting to get into the  
specifics of his condition. Especially with Sho of all people. "I've been  
well taken care of by Prof. Odagiri and the others down here."

"I only did what I had to do," Sumio said with a calm smile.  
"Prof. Yamamura may be dead, but no matter what happens I won't let his  
dream die with him."

"Yeah," Masaki said, smiling almost nostalgically. "You and me  
both, Professor. We rebels have to stick together."

Sumio chuckled, and Sho turned to Masaki with a curiously saddened expression  
on his face. "Mr. Murakami? Is it true that Prof. Yamamura was your  
friend?"

"Yes, it's true Sho," Masaki said, getting the feeling that he  
knew just what Sho was getting at. "Professor Shinichiro Yamamura was my  
old instructor from college. He was also my mentor, and an old friend of  
mine."

"And you still think of him as your friend, even after everything he did  
to you? Turning you into a Proto-Zoalord? Nearly getting your entire family  
killed? Forcing you and your son to live on the run for nearly five years?"  
Mizuki asked.

"You have to understand, Mizuki, Prof. Yamamura was in a desperate  
situation," Masaki explained. "He had to maintain at least the  
appearance of loyalty to Chronos or they would have had him executed. But he  
also wanted to attack them for all that they had done to him. Yamamura wanted  
revenge, but if he was going to get it without getting himself killed in the  
process, he also knew that he would have to be very subtle about what he did to  
get it. Prof. Odagiri probably already told you about the three other men that  
Prof. Yamamura had recruited to his side," here Masaki looked to one of the  
children for conformation.

"He did," Makashima said, nodding.

"I personally never knew if they were fellow students of his, like me,  
or if they joined up with him for some other reason," Masaki paused.  
"But all of that isn't what's important right now."

"But," Mizuki still seemed confused. "Didn't you hate the  
professor for what he had done to you, Mr. Murakami?"

"I won't lie to you, Mizuki." _At least not about that, anyway,_  
Masaki thought to himself. "For a while I _did_ hate Professor  
Yamamura for what he had done to me, but then he explained to me just why he had  
to do it. He'd needed people that he could trust with the power that being a  
Proto-Zoalord would give them, since he'd intended for us to fight against  
Chronos with him. But as you probably already know, it didn't go quite as  
Yamamura had planned."

"Yes," Makashima said calmly. "Prof. Odagiri told us about  
what happened in Arizona. I am frankly impressed that even a single  
Proto-Zoalord could have survived an assault led by the Twelve Zoalords. Even  
though you were injured in the escape attempt, it says a lot about your will to  
survive that you were even alive after that battle."

"I had a lot of things to live for," Masaki said. _Though at that  
point revenge was a big part of the reason I hung on. After that there were  
other reasons, but now I guess I'm back to my original one. I'm going to  
make that bastard Guyot sorry he ever even looked at Kenji._

Makashima nodded silently. "So this is the basement of Relics  
Point," he said, and the segue wasn't something that Masaki had been  
prepared for. "I guess that it is true what they say: the darkest place is  
under the candlestick. I doubt that Balkus or Guyot would ever suspect that we  
were all hiding directly beneath them."

Masaki really couldn't help the smugly satisfied look that spread across  
his face when Makashima made that statement. "I see that you're back in  
good form now too, Sho. And we also have Prof. Odagiri and his crew as our  
allies," Masaki smiled, and he considered it a sign of his acting abilities  
that no one aside from Sumio could see just how bloodthirsty he felt. "We  
finally have the force to make a real counterattack."

"But Mr. Murakami?" Mizuki seemed worried now, and Masaki could see  
that that worry was directed at him. "What about you? Everyone says that  
you were badly injured in the fight you had with Guyot. Are you really sure that  
you should be thinking of ways to attack instead of resting?"

"Don't worry about me, Mizuki," Masaki said calmly. "My body's  
in better shape than it has been for a long time. I feel like a new man. I'll  
be fine here, and it's mostly thanks to you guys that that's the case. So  
put it out of your mind, Mizuki. I'm perfectly all right."

Only he and Sumio knew that Masaki was lying through his teeth when he said  
that. And if Masaki had any say in the matter, that was the way it was going to  
stay. Catching a glimpse of Sumio's face, Masaki saw that his old friend was  
closing his eyes like he was in some kind of pain. Masaki knew why that was, but  
there was still no way in hell that he was going to tell Sho and his friends  
just what was happening to him. Mizuki would just worry herself over something  
else she couldn't do anything about.

And as for Sho, well Sho would try harder than ever not to put any strain on  
him. And if they were going to fight with their full strength against Chronos,  
they were going to need everyone that was capable of holding their own in a  
battle with Chronos' army of Zoanoids. That included him.


	31. Banter

There were pained screams, as well as raucous laughter, coming from the radio  
set into the computer where Dr. Balkus had stationed himself. Able to do nothing  
but listen and seethe, since by now Aptom was completely out of his control, Dr.  
Balkus waited for the sounds to end. The end was always the most annoying part.  
Sure enough, once the screams of the Zoanoids could no longer be heard, there  
was a slight crackling in the receiver that indicated that Aptom had picked it  
up.

"Hello, Dr. Balkus," Aptom's aggravating, cheerful voice came  
over the speakers. "I'd thank you for the free meal, but I don't think  
you'd really appreciate my gratitude."

Aptom's laughter filled the room, up until the point where the former Hyper  
Zoanoid crushed the transmitter. The sudden burst of static that heralded the  
end of the transmission was cause for an annoyed scowl from Dr. Balkus. Unlike Guyot, however, Dr. Balkus considered it unnecessary to have a large and ready  
vocabulary of curse words prepared for every unpleasant occurrence.

_   
__ _

_Speaking of that… Guyot, I wonder just where our Twelfth Zoalord has managed  
to bury himself for so long. It is not like him to be this silent for this long._  
As if Dr. Balkus' thoughts had conjured him, the tall, broad form of Richard Guyot  
came striding through the doors that led into the computer room.

"I heard the screaming," Guyot said, smiling calmly. "I wanted  
to see if there was anything I could do to help."

There was no overt sarcasm or mockery in the Commander's voice, but there  
was something in his manner that set Dr. Balkus on edge. Guyot seemed far too  
self-satisfied, and far too casual about a creature that was causing nothing but  
harm and destruction to Chronos. Dr. Balkus narrowed his eyes, taking in Guyot's  
appearance and manner. The Twelfth Zoalord was holding a napkin around an egg  
bagel, eating it while he looked at the datafile on Aptom that Dr. Balkus was  
currently perusing.

"Quite interesting how you managed to create this 'Aptom' and then  
were completely unable to control him, doctor," Guyot turned a sidelong  
smile on him. "Are you quite sure you should still be working here? Maybe  
it's time you took a vacation."

Dr. Balkus narrowed his eyes still further, as Guyot gave him an innocent  
smile and took another bite out of his bagel.

"I assure you, Commander Guyot, that there is nothing wrong with my  
ability to perform my duties. I do not need a vacation."

"If you insist," Guyot said offhandedly, with a shrug to further  
indicate his complete lack of belief. "So, what _has_ your little  
failed experiment been up to lately?"

Dr. Balkus, who was determined not to be drawn into yet another verbal  
sparring match with the Twelfth Zoalord, did not dignify that with a response. Guyot  
turned to him with a raised eyebrow, but Dr. Balkus still resolutely  
ignored him.

"Well, since I get the feeling that you would rather be alone to  
contemplate your mistake, I will leave you to it."

And somehow, despite what he had just said, there was still no trace of overt  
mocking in Commander Guyot's voice. But still, there was the fact that the  
Commander had been hiding something from him, from Alkanphel, and from all the  
other Zoalords. This was as good a time as any to confront him about that.

"Commander, I was wondering if you would be willing to tell me just what  
you have been doing of late," Dr. Balkus said, wondering just what kind of  
reaction he would receive from the Commander.

"Lately?" Guyot held up his bagel. "I was having my midmorning  
snack. An idea which Aptom and I seem to have in common."

Commander Guyot evidently thought his little joke was amusing, judging by the  
way he started laughing. Dr. Balkus was not so amused by the Commander's  
little quip, and the glare he aimed at the Twelfth Zoalord made that fact very  
clear. Guyot didn't seem to care what Dr. Balkus thought of him, though, given  
the way he sedately kept eating. At last fed up with trying to get answers from Guyot  
indirectly, Dr. Balkus stepped up and faced the Commander straight on.

"I want to know what you have been doing, what you know about that  
strange vibration that happened late last night, and just what you are hiding  
from me!" Dr. Balkus demanded.

"In order: eating, absolutely nothing, and only that usual," Guyot said calmly.

Dr. Balkus' glare became more pronounced. "So, you are trying to tell  
me that you have been doing nothing but eating since last night? I find that  
somewhat hard to believe, Commander."

"Well I did take time out to sleep, of course," Guyot said calmly.  
"In fact, that vibration was what nearly woke me up last night. Though I  
did manage to fall back to sleep, thank you so much for your concern."

Dr. Balkus' glare would have caused any lesser Zoaform to falter under the  
sheer intensity of it, but Guyot simply stood there and continued to smile  
blandly at him. It was all becoming very aggravating.

"If you have nothing worthwhile to contribute to this conversation then  
you are dismissed, Commander."

"Of course," Guyot said solicitously, turning to leave.

Dr. Balkus aimed a scathing glare at the Twelfth Zoalord's back as Guyot left the workroom; that had been more annoyance than he had needed. And, as if  
that weren't enough, he still had not managed to pry any useful information  
out of the Commander. All in all, this day had not been a very good one.

XxXxX

Guyot laughed to himself as he exited the computer room where Dr. Balkus had  
ensconced himself. That had been easier than he had expected it to be, what with  
Aptom to distract Balkus' focus from what he was doing. He would really have  
to find some way to thank the rogue Lost Unit for giving him such a good  
smoke-screen to hide his own clandestine projects behind.


	32. Battle

Thinking back to what he had actually been doing late last night, and  
continued to do until early this morning, Guyot considered the progress that he  
had made on the Murakami boy's Zoalord body. After all the work he had done, Guyot  
finally considered it finished. He had given the boy thirty Gravity Points, since Murakami's son was not going  
to be some weak Proto-Zoalord. The next thing Guyot had done was to track down  
another one of his loyal scientists and discreetly question the man about the  
genetic differences between a Proto-Zoalord and a real Zoalord.

It wouldn't do to have the Murakami boy die after six months just because Guyot  
hadn't taken the time to learn about the physiology of his young charge's  
soon-to-be new species. Guyot had learned that the only thing separating a  
Zoalord from a Proto-Zoalord was the Zoacrystal. Lacking that, the  
energies contained in the Gravity Points would cause progressively greater  
damage to the Proto-Zoalord's body.

It was just this kind of damage that eventually overwhelmed even the  
extensive recuperative powers of the Proto-Zoalord, causing them to die. His  
scientist had said that it was theoretically possible to continually reprocess a  
Proto-Zoalord once they reached the end of their lifespan, but Guyot was  
unwilling to waste time and resources on such a thing when it would be much  
simpler to make the boy into a full Zoalord. Besides, full Zoalords were a great  
deal more powerful than their Proto-Zoalord counterparts.

As he made his way back to the elevators that would take him down to the  
Murakami boy's 'resting place', Guyot considered Aptom again. The Lost Number, while interesting in and of himself, could prove to be a threat to  
Guyot's  
own plans as well as those of Chronos. Aptom, while a useful distraction at this  
early stage, would of course have to be eliminated once Balkus and all of  
Alkanphel's other supporters were dead.

It would be an interesting fight, since Guyot had received reports from his  
spies within Balkus' research division that Aptom was able to improve his own  
body and fighting abilities by literally absorbing any of the Zoanoids and Hyper  
Zoanoids that were unfortunate enough to cross his path. Guyot wasn't at all  
eager to personally find out whether or not Aptom would be able to absorb a  
Zoalord like him. True, Zoalord physiology was different from that of a Zoanoid,  
but since Aptom had been absorbing Hyper Zoanoids of late, Guyot wasn't sure  
that the physiological differences would be enough of a protection for him.

No, Aptom would have to be disposed of soon after all of the supporters of  
Alkanphel had been dealt with. Keeping that in mind, Guyot stepped into the  
express elevator and closed the door. Since all of the security checkpoints were  
staffed by Zoanoids, with only the occasional human overseer, Guyot knew that he  
would have a relatively easy time getting through them. After all, only a Lost Number  
could ignore commands from a Zoalord.

XxXxX

As Alkanphel made his way closer to the place called Mt. Minakami, he  
pondered on that strange vibration that he had sensed coming from under the  
mountain itself. There were no doubts in Alkanphel's mind that the vibration  
had been caused by the dormant Advent craft that was buried under the mountain.  
Still, the First Zoalord was curious as to what had caused the craft to become  
active again even for so short a time.

There were indeed some things that could cause a frequency resonance between  
the craft and the Zoacrystal of one of his Zoalords, but Alkanphel had not  
thought that any of his children would find those artifacts. There had been a  
few reports that had reached him of Guyvers in this area, but since Hamilcal had  
seemed to have the problem well in hand Alkanphel had not concerned himself with  
that. What did concern him was the mysterious but short-lived awakening of the  
Advent craft.

_   
__ _

_Could Hamilcal have discovered the Remover? No. He would have contacted me  
immediately if he had found something that important. _Alkanphel had not told  
Hamilcal, or any of his other children for that matter, about the Remover or  
what it did. Perhaps that was a mistake, at the very least he knew that Hamilcal  
could have been trusted with the secrets of the Unit Remover. It would certainly  
have made dealing with the Guyver insurrections a great deal easier for his  
Second Zoalord. However, since he wanted to conceal his presence and intentions  
from both Hamilcal and Richard, who was also staying at Mt. Minakami, Alkanphel  
decided that he would discuss the Remover at a later time.

Hamilcal had already informed him of the suspicions that he harbored against Richard, and Alkanphel had had to agree with his Second Zoalord.  
Richard had been  
entirely too ambitious, and Alkanphel had almost rejected him for the Zoalord  
process out of hand. Only the threat of the Advents' return had given a human  
named Reichman Wilhelm the chance to become the Twelfth Zoalord.

It had been that way with a few of the others as well, most notably Luggnagg  
De Krumeggnik. Alkanphel had only heard second-hand reports of that human's  
processing, but Hamilcal had said that he had been extremely eager to become the  
Ninth Zoalord. As a result of that, Alkanphel had not felt truly comfortable  
with having Luggnagg as a part of the hierarchy. But now was not the time to  
think about such things.

As he continued on his way to Mt. Minakami, Alkanphel started to feel short,  
sharp bursts of fear and pain coming from in front of him and to the right.  
Turning his attention that way Alkanphel managed to catch a last glimpse,  
through the eyes of a dying Hyper Zoanoid, of the creature that was attacking  
them. It was the same creature that Alkanphel had thought destroyed when his  
Gravity Bullet had obliterated most of the creature's body.

Apparently, this experimental Zoanoid was stronger than he had appeared to be at  
first. Alkanphel would even have been willing to say with some confidence that  
this creature had been an experimental Hyper Zoanoid. It was also a safe  
assumption that this one had been a Lost Number also. That was the only way to  
really explain the way that the creature had been able to resist Alkanphel when  
he had given those other Zoanoids the order to self-destruct.

That made the creature even more dangerous than Alkanphel had first suspected  
he would be. And that made it all the more important for Alkanphel to destroy  
him permanently. A creature as dangerous as this Lost Number Hyper Zoanoid could  
not be allowed to exist. His mind made up, Alkanphel turned and headed for the  
last place that he had seen through the eyes of the Hyper Zoanoid just before it  
had died.

Even with his telepathy, Alkanphel could only barely sense the Lost Number, and  
even then he could not read the thoughts or even the intent of the former Hyper  
Zoanoid. Alkanphel was slightly annoyed by that fact, but the Zoalord knew that  
there was really nothing he could do about that. Sometimes even Chronos'  
superior bioengineering technology could be hindered by the unique aspects of  
certain humans.

Clearing the last stand of trees that blocked his sight of the Lost Number,  
Alkanphel charged up another Gravity Bullet and fired it at his back. Apparently  
the Lost Number had developed some extra senses from all of the Hyper Zoanoids he  
had absorbed, since he was able to dodge faster than Alkanphel would have  
expected of him. The scarred face of the Lost Number registered surprise, and then  
anger as he evidently recognized Alkanphel for who he was.

"You again! What, wasn't killing me once enough for you?!" the Lost Number  
demanded.

"I have evidently not killed you, as you are standing right in front of  
me. But rest assured, Lost Number, I _will_ finish the job this time,"  
Alkanphel said calmly.

"My name's Aptom you bastard! Remember it, since it's the last name _you're_  
ever going to hear!"

"Aptom," Alkanphel said calmly, trying the name out.  
"Interesting."

Aptom's scarred face clearly showed his contempt for Alkanphel, and  
Alkanphel could feel his own features mimicking Aptom's expression almost  
perfectly.

"Is that all you have to say?!" the Lost Number  demanded.

"What else is there?" Alkanphel asked calmly.

With an inarticulate roar, the Lost Number launched himself at the Zoalord of  
Zoalords. Moving so swiftly that he would have only registered as a blur to the  
eyes of the Lost Number attacking him, Alkanphel managed to get himself into  
position to launch another attack. His Concussion Wave, a powerful blast of  
compressed air, tore off the Lost Number's right arm. Alkanphel was not so  
arrogant as to think that the loss of merely an arm would be enough to stop a  
creature that had somehow managed to reconstitute a whole body out of the few  
parts that he had left behind.


	33. Schemer

Alkanphel knew that he would have to make sure that the body of the Lost Unit was completely destroyed before he left this time. Not even individual cells could be left intact, since there would be no other way to truly make sure that the Lost Unit was dead. Alkanphel was not a being who left many things to chance, after all. Two more Gravity Bullets, only one of which the Lost Unit managed to dodge, tore a hole in the Lost Unit’s left flank.

This time, Alkanphel could actually see the Lost Unit’s body working to heal itself from the damage that the Zoalord had inflicted on him. It was an interesting thing to see, although not nearly as impressive as his own recuperative powers or those of his children. But still, the fact that a Lost Unit possessed any recuperative ability at all was cause for concern in Alkanphel’s opinion. He would simply have to cause enough damage so that the Lost Unit would not be able to recover from it.

A barrage of Wind/Energy Scythes ripped the Lost Unit’s legs apart, rendering him immobile. Alkanphel then fired another barrage of Gravity Bullets. The Lost Unit screamed as his body was torn apart by the sheer energy contained within Alkanphel’s attack. Alkanphel felt no remorse over what he had done, since he had merely been eliminating a potential threat to himself and the rest of his organization.

Lost Units, while useful up to a point, were not to be allowed to run wild in this way. He would have to speak to Hamilcal about that. Looking at the burned ground where the Lost Unit had once stood, Alkanphel made sure that there was no trace of the Lost Unit, not even a cell could be left, Alkanphel knew. The regenerative capabilities of the Lost Unit were unknown, but Alkanphel now knew that they were great.

Scanning the ground with his senses, Alkanphel was pleased to note that there was no trace of the Lost Unit to be found. Turning away from the crater that marked the Lost Unit’s death site, Alkanphel resumed his interrupted journey to Mt. Minakami.

XxXxX

Aptom, through the connection that he had had to both of his clones, knew what had happened to the third member of his group. That bastard Zoalord wasn’t going to get away with killing him twice in one week Aptom promised himself grimly.

"At least we know where he’s headed now," Aptom’s one remaining clone said.

"Yeah, at least there’s that," Aptom himself said. "But I don’t know what he’d want with the old coot. Didn’t know the old coot had a first name, either."

"Hamilcal Balkus," Aptom’s clone snickered. "That’s even dumber than Reholt Gyou."

Both clone and original laughed at that, before quickly quieting down so as to avoid the attention of that Zoalord. Both of them still thought he was pretty, and they were both still determined to make a meal out of the pretty bastard. It would have to wait until they had absorbed at least one other Zoalord. Probably Gyou himself, and in fact that was what they were both hoping for. That it would be Gyou who had the bad luck to try to take them on next.

Gyou was strong, but he was also arrogant. It would be easier to get him to make a mistake that would let Aptom get the drop on him. But they were going to need more of them to even have a hope of taking on someone like Gyou. The battles, if they could even be called that, with the blond Zoalord had proved just how much more power they would need to steal to even be able to face off with Gyou. Absorbing the remainder of the Hyper Zoanoid Team Five would give them an edge in combat.

As well as pissing off Gyou, since he seemed to be fond of them for reasons that Aptom couldn’t have cared less about. As Aptom and his clone kept walking, they both kept a sharp lookout for any other Zoanoids, Standard or Hyper, that they could absorb to boost their strength. Or alternately infect and use as clone-fodder.

XxXxX

Back in the lowest level of Mt. Minakami, in the mostly disused laboratory, Reholt Gyou hummed softly to himself as he stepped off the elevator. The Remover had already been proven to respond to his bio-energy, so that was one trump card. Now all that Gyou needed to do was to have his second trump card ready. And then he could go out and hunt for his third.

Now that he had fully adjusted the plans for the Murakami boy’s Zoalord body, all that remained was to turn the disk over to his loyal scientists. From there, they would be able to design the retro-virus that would rewrite the child’s DNA and turn him into Gyou’s own Zoalord. At least, that was what he had been told was the standard procedure when a human was processed.

One of his loyal scientists, either Halverson or Henderson, had once tried to explain just what happened to the human body during the Zoaformation process. Gyou had tried to listen to what the man had been saying, truly he had, but at the time he had been distracted by the reports that Shirai had given him only a half-hour earlier about the Remover. Once or twice, Gyou had thought about asking one of the scientists to explain the process to him again, but there was really no pressing need for him to learn about it.

That was one of the things Murakami’s son was for, after all.


	34. Transformation

As Gyou made his way deeper into the disused and mostly abandoned laboratory, he removed the disk from his pocket. Doctors Halverson and Sanderson were both standing by the processing-tank that held Murakami’s son in his stasis sleep, and Gyou wondered for a moment just why they were together in this place. The two scientists noticed him then and both nodded respectfully.

"Commander Gyou," Dr. Sanderson turned to him. "Ed says that you’re the one who designed this young man’s Zoalord body. I don’t want to sound presumptuous, Commander, but would you like me to take a look at what you’ve done? Just to see if there are any improvements that could be made?"

Gyou narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking over what the man had said. Apparently he was very intimidating when he was in this pose, judging by the way that Dr. Sanderson held up his hands. And also by the next words out of the man’s mouth.

"I didn’t mean anything by that, Commander," Dr. Sanderson said, sounding more than a little frantic. "I was only saying that since you had never designed a Zoalord before, you might need…"

Gyou glared at the man as he trailed off. While it was a fact that he had never before done any work of this kind, it was also very aggravating to be questioned this way by one of his own underlings. Dr. Halverson at least seemed to have the sense not to say anything, and Gyou was pleased to note that he at least had some discretion.

"Doctor," Gyou said, turning to face Dr. Halverson and dismissing Sanderson from his thoughts. "Do you have anything to add to this conversation?"

"No, sir," Dr. Halverson shook his head with finality.

Gyou nodded, again feeling satisfied that Dr. Halverson at least knew his place. Handing the disk to Dr. Halverson wordlessly, Gyou turned and left.

Once he was gone, Sanderson slowly let out the breath he’d been holding.

"You really shouldn’t have said that to him, Simon," Halverson said to his fellow processing technician. "You know how touchy he can get about things like that."

"I know, I’m sorry. I forgot," Sanderson said, still looking at the spot where Commander Gyou had been standing. "I just hope that he won’t hold it against me for that long."

"Well, you and I both know how the Commander can be about these kinds of things," Halverson said, as he inserted the disk into the computer terminal. "Still, if you want to assist me, I’d be happy to have the help."

"Thank you. I’d be happy to assist you," Sanderson said as he stepped over to the console.

With the two of them standing side-by-side at the console it was a bit more crowded than Halverson would have preferred, but it was really the only way that they were both going to be able to see just what was on the disk that Commander Gyou had presented to them. The genetic code for the child’s Zoalord body showed up on the small screen of the console and both scientists began looking it over. It turned out to be a very well thought out design, especially for someone who had admitted that he had never designed a Zoalord before.

To someone who had worked on the Proto-Zoalord project in Arizona, this particular design would seem very familiar indeed. But then, neither of them had been with that particular subset of Chronos’ scientific division. Aside from that, most of the scientists who had worked with Prof. Yamamura on that particular project had been executed for collaborating with a traitor. Those few that had survived were cut off from their supply of antidote.

They had then been interrogated by some of Dr. Balkus’ own loyal staff. Drs. Halverson, Sanderson and Henderson had all heard vague stories about the ‘Arizona Incident’, as it had been called. But really nothing beyond rumors and hearsay had reached them, and none of the scientists had been at all interested in learning the true story. They were processing technicians, not investigators, and things like attempted insurrections and sabotage really weren’t within their purview.

The development of this child’s Zoalord body, however, was certainly something that both of them could take an interest in. There were some very minor flaws in the DNA, not all that important but Halverson dealt with them anyway, more out of a liking for perfection than any real sense of urgency. Sanderson checked over the work of his fellow processing technician without having to be told. Thoroughness and efficiency being the mark of such men, after all.

Once they were done with that job, Sanderson stepped away from the console at a look from Halverson. Designing the retro-virus was work best done by one person. Halverson’s hands practically flew over the console, his typing speed developed over long years of the same. Sanderson watched appreciatively, since he had never really managed to develop the kind of speed that he had seen Halverson demonstrate on a fairly regular basis.

As Halverson completed the work on the Zoalord retro-virus and started feeding it into the processing-tank, he considered what he was feeling about this particular project. It wasn’t really anything at this point, but there was still the sense that he should be feeling at least _something_. Remorse at least, if not outright guilt. But he felt nothing, and still Halverson felt that he should be feeling… well, anything really.

But he knew the stories; stories of what happened to the people who had let their conscience get in the way of their work. People who had stupidly tried to betray Chronos for some so-called higher cause. The things that had happened to those people didn’t really bear thinking about. At least Halverson could take some comfort in the fact that he wasn’t one of those stupidly idealistic types; the ones that never lasted long in the outside world.

To say nothing of their survival rate inside Chronos itself. Looking back at the boy in the processing-tank, Halverson made up his mind not to entertain any more of those pointless thoughts. If he felt nothing about what he was doing, then he simply felt nothing. Ethics be damned. Halverson had seen too much, and knew the dangers too well, to let himself be drawn into a debate about the morality of genetic engineering. Even if it _was_ just with himself.

Now that the retro-virus had had a chance to fully mix with the processing fluid, Dr. Halverson settled back to watch the changes. These would of course be more dramatic than those that the boy had gone through when Halverson had merely aged his body.


	35. Truth

Mizuki, laden with a tray full of food, made her way back towards the room where Mr. Murakami had been resting for the last four days. She was concentrating more on her destination than on anyone that might be standing in front of her, and Tetsuro’s white lab-coat blended in almost perfectly with the pale colored walls. Mizuki bumped gently into her brother’s back, startling herself and rattling the dishes on the tray.

"Sorry," Tetsuro said kindly, turning around and moving out of the way.

"No. I really should have been paying better attention to where I was going," Mizuki said, sounding sheepish.

"Why are you carrying hospital food, Mizuki?" Sho asked.

"Sho!" Mizuki exclaimed, surprised at the fact that she hadn’t noticed him coming up. "The food is for Mr. Murakami. He keeps saying that he’s all right, but Prof. Odagiri says that Mr. Murakami is still in recovery."

Sho and Tetsuro both nodded, and Mizuki smiled and turned away, then started walking again. The soft click of her footsteps on the linoleum was the only sound that kept Mizuki company on her way to Mr. Murakami’s room. Once she had made it to the door of his room, Mizuki knocked and waited to be let in. She didn’t expect the door to come open at her first touch, but that was just what happened. Mizuki was just about to call out and announce her presence, when she heard Mr. Murakami’s voice.

"Sumio, please tell me. I need to know all the details about it."

Mizuki, hearing the depression and outright desperation in Mr. Murakami’s voice, decided to find out what was going on between the two of them. If it was something really important, she didn’t want to interrupt it just to deliver food.

"Masaki…"

"I made up my mind a long time ago, Sumio," Mr. Murakami’s voice sounded both weary and determined. "And it’s not like I really have anything else to live for anymore."

Mr. Murakami sighed then, and Mizuki winced at the reminder of Mr. Murakami’s kidnapped son. Hearing someone pacing and some shifting of blankets, Mizuki wondered again just what Mr. Murakami and Prof. Odagiri could be discussing.

"I was supposed to have died back in Arizona," here Mr. Murakami paused, as if gathering himself for what he was going to say next. "In fact, I’m honestly surprised that an experimental body like mine has lasted this long. But I can feel now that something’s happening to me. Sumio, please, answer me honestly. How much longer do I have left to live?"

"At the most, half a year. And that would only be if you somehow managed to stay completely at rest."

At this flat pronouncement, Mizuki felt like her heart had stopped beating. Mr. Murakami, who had so often seemed like he was the strongest of them all, had only half a year to live? Why hadn’t he told any of the others? There had to be something that they could do for him! Swallowing hard, Mizuki continued to listen.

"Would it be possible for me to transform into my Proto-Zoalord form?" Mr. Murakami asked.

"I think that it would be possible," Prof. Odagiri said, and Mizuki thought that he sounded very reluctant to give out this information. "But you have to understand that the transformation into your battle-form consumes bio-energy at a drastically increased rate. You probably _would_ be able to transform one last time, but the strain would most likely kill you."

"One more time should be enough," Mr. Murakami said, sounding so unconcerned at the prospect of his own death that Mizuki wanted to cry. How could anyone take their own life that lightly? "Thank you, Sumio. Your honesty means a lot to me."

The tray slipped from Mizuki’s nerveless fingers then, crashing to the floor amid shattered dishes and spilled food. Mizuki then found herself staring at Prof. Odagiri, who had evidently opened the door the rest of the way. Mizuki however was focused on Mr. Murakami, who was still lying in the same bed he had been in for the past three days. He looked more surprised than anything to see her standing in the doorway. But Mr. Murakami also looked kind of relieved, and Mizuki couldn’t help but wonder just why on earth _that_ was.

"Mizuki!" Prof. Odagiri exclaimed.

"It’s not true, is it?" she asked desperately. "Mr. Murakami can’t have just half a year to live. Please, tell me it’s not true!"

Mr. Murakami closed his eyes as if he was in pain, and Mizuki wondered if he was feeling the effects of what had been done to him even now. "It’s true, Mizuki," Mr. Murakami said, and for the first time he actually sounded sad about it.

Looking over at Prof. Odagiri and then back to Mr. Murakami, Mizuki found that they were both studiously avoiding her gaze. Finally, after an eternity of subjective time, Mr. Murakami turned to look her in the eyes.

"You can’t tell anyone about this," Mr. Murakami looked straight at her, and his eyes hardened. "Especially not Sho."

Hurrying over to Mr. Murakami’s bedside, Mizuki looked into Mr. Murakami’s blue eyes. There was an unwavering conviction in his expression, and Mizuki wondered just why Mr. Murakami was so adamant that Sho wasn’t to know about his condition.

"Why, Mr. Murakami? Why don’t you want Sho to know about this? I’m sure with all of us working together-"

"There’s nothing that anyone can do for me, Mizuki," Mr. Murakami’s expression softened, but there was still something immovable in his eyes. "I know that better than anyone, except probably Sumio. And if Sho knew about what was happening to me, he would try even harder not to impose any burden on me. You know how he is. But that would distract him, and we need all the power we have now if we’re going to be able to do any kind of damage to Chronos."

While Mr. Murakami had explained this part of it to her, Mizuki had been thinking of something else. It might not have been the most sensitive or diplomatic question to ask at a time like this, but there were just some things that Mizuki felt she had to know. This was one of them.

"Um, Mr. Murakami, what about your son?"

"I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it," Mr. Murakami said flatly, turning away from her.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I’ll… deal with Kenji if and when I ever see him again," Mr. Murakami, though his face and voice gave nothing away, still seemed like he was in pain.

"How can you say something like that?!" Mizuki exclaimed, sickened that someone could be so coldhearted. "He’s your only family!"

"Do you think this is easy for me?!" Mr. Murakami demanded, grabbing hold of Mizuki’s shoulders and staring into her eyes. Mr. Murakami’s blue eyes were as bright and dangerous as a Guyver’s Mega-Smasher. "He’s my son! My little boy. But I know what I have to do, because he’s not going to be human the next time I see him."

Mr. Murakami finally seemed to notice his tight grip on her shoulders, which Mizuki was thankful for since it was starting to hurt. "I’m sorry Mizuki," Mr. Murakami said, sounding exhausted as he turned away and flopped back down onto the bed.

"Mizuki, I think you should leave," Prof. Odagiri said kindly, taking her hand and gently steering Mizuki to the door. "Masaki still needs his rest."

"But…" that was when Mizuki remembered the food she had spilled all over the floor. "Oh! I’m so sorry! What is Mr. Murakami going to eat now? I was supposed to get food for him, not get into an argument with him!"

"Don’t worry, Mizuki," Prof. Odagiri said, not seeming worried at all about the food. "I can clean up the mess, and I can also go get Masaki something to eat. What you just found out couldn’t have been easy to hear. So why don’t you just take care of yourself for awhile, hmm? This kind of a shock isn’t at all easy to absorb all at once, take my word for it. Go on, and remember not to tell anyone about Masaki’s condition."

"I… I won’t," Mizuki almost whispered as she walked out the door.

"Good."


	36. Sensed

Sumio eased the door closed behind Mizuki as she left, then turned to the mess on the floor. One of the disadvantages of taking part in a clandestine operation was the fact that they couldn’t just page the janitorial staff. Of course, that did mean that some of the scientists here were being more careful not to make messes in the first place, so that was something good.

"I guess that could have gone a bit better," Masaki said, still sounding tired.

"Yes, it could have. But she has to get used to the realities of this war sooner or later," Sumio said, as he started to clean up the mess. "Better that she does it sooner, so it won’t be so much of a shock for her later."

"I know," Masaki sighed again. "I just sometimes wish I could protect them better. They’re really only kids, even after all they’ve been through."

"I know, Masaki. But, remember that even you can’t be everywhere at once, all right? You’re not immortal, nor are you indestructible."

"Believe me Sumio, I know that a lot better than you do," Masaki said, sounding rueful.

"Sorry. I guess this kind of conversation really would tend to remind one of one’s own mortality," Sumio said, nodding.

"I’ll second that," Masaki said, turning to lay on his side.

XxXxX

Dr. Balkus, after having gone over every scrap of hard data pertaining to the Lost Number Aptom, was sitting in one of the large throne-like chairs at the back of the lab. Dr. Balkus was fuming at himself; first and foremost for having been so careless as to reprocess Aptom so many times that the Lost Unit had ceased to be a Zoanoid and become something else altogether.

Then there was also the matter of whatever Commander Gyou was planning to do. Dr. Balkus knew that to derail the Commander’s plans would require him to know about them in the first place, but Gyou was proving to be better at operating in secret than the Twelfth Zoalord’s arrogance would have at first suggested. Whatever the Commander had in mind would no doubt be very dangerous if he was working this hard to conceal all evidence of it.

_Maybe it is time that I had a look at those video records personally._ Dr. Balkus stood up and walked back over to the large computer that sat on the other side of the small room where he had been sitting. The main records had been erased, yes, but Dr. Balkus knew more about computers than Commander Gyou had ever taken the time to learn. If there was a way to get those records back, then Dr. Balkus was going to find it.

As he went through the main files as well as the backups, Dr. Balkus found what he was looking for after only twenty minutes of work. Reconstructing both the video and the audio for this particular file took a bit of work, but Dr. Balkus was impatient to find at least something that would give him an idea of what their Twelfth Zoalord was planning. There was also something else, something that gnawed at the Second Zoalord’s mind like an annoying termite. Some familiar feeling that Dr. Balkus was at the moment strenuously trying to ignore.

It still did manage to distract him on occasion, though, but this kind of data recovery was something he had done often enough that he could afford to be a little unfocused. When the video was fully restored, including the sound that had been recorded, Dr. Balkus replayed it. What he saw surprised him, and the Second Zoalord did not like to deal with surprises.

"Murakami’s son? Still alive?"

Dr. Balkus watched as the small family drama played out on the large screen in front of him. The boy, Kenji, was left to stay on his own in the tent that Murakami had no doubt set up for him to inhabit. Dr. Balkus thought that Murakami was a fool to leave such a young child out in the forest this close to a Chronos processing facility without even some small measure of protection. Of course, it was possible that Murakami thought that hiding his son so close to this very facility was tantamount to hiding him in plain sight.

That plan had obviously backfired in spectacular fashion, but that still left the question of just what the Commander had done with Murakami’s son. There was no doubt at all left in Dr. Balkus’ mind that Commander Gyou was the one responsible for this Kenji Murakami’s disappearance. Now there was only the question of just what the Twelfth Zoalord had done with the boy. Killed him, that was the first thought that came to Dr. Balkus, given the way that the Commander evidently abhorred all things that dealt with the elder Murakami.

Dr. Balkus also had a marked antipathy for the man, since he had expected that Murakami would die just like all of the other prototypes he had used to finish off designing Commander Gyou’s Zoalord body. It was both annoying and somewhat gratifying to learn that it had been a Proto-Zoalord designed by Dr. Balkus himself that had managed to cause so much trouble for Chronos.

Somewhat gratifying because it had been one of his own designs that had survived for so long, annoying because the Proto-Zoalord had been _attacking_ Chronos rather than joining up with them. A Proto-Zoalord that strong would have quickly found a place for himself within Chronos’ ranks. Perhaps Murakami would have even been given the chance to become a full Zoalord before his lifespan inevitably ended.

He would not have been one of the Twelve Overlords, but at least Murakami would have had a place within Chronos and a chance to live. Dr. Balkus was disconcerted by the fact that Murakami had decided to throw all of this away for some reason on a scheme for revenge that his own flawed biology had doomed from the start. But Murakami was not the issue at hand right now, his son was.

For a moment, Dr. Balkus considered confronting Gyou with the evidence of the Twelfth Zoalord’s treachery. Then, thinking better of it, Dr. Balkus decided to find another way to see what had happened to young Kenji Murakami. There had to be something that would give him at least some clue about what Gyou was planning.

The feeling of resonance and recognition came back then; even stronger for all that Dr. Balkus was determined to ignore it. It startled Dr. Balkus out of his contemplation, something that the Second Zoalord was not at all grateful for. _What is this presence that I keep sensing?_ Dr. Balkus wondered, slightly agitated._ Who could have this strong a telepathic signal that even I, the strongest telepath of the Human-born Zoalords, would not be able to filter it out? Could it possibly be…?_

Dr. Balkus, deciding that finding out just who was sending out these strong telepathic waves was more important right now than finding out where Murakami’s lost son was, shut down the computer and turned away from it. He needed to focus right now.

XxXxX

Commander Gyou, who had been thinking about how just about everything was going his way right now, was also caught unawares by the psychic waves that were gaining strength the closer they came to Mt. Minakami. Gyou, since he was not anywhere near as experienced as some of the other Zoalords when it came to dealing with telepathy, was almost knocked unconscious by the overwhelming mental force.

_What the hell is this?!_ Gyou demanded silently of no one. _Is this Balkus’ work? I’m going to wring his sanctimonious neck for doing this to me!_ It was almost as bad as when the Relic had reacted to his Zoacrystal, but somehow worse this time since Gyou didn’t have any readily available explanation for why his Zoacrystal would be reacting now. After all, the Relic was at the bottom of the basement level, separated from him by several hundred layers of reinforced titanium, steel and concrete.

It was simply not logical to think that the Relic could be affecting him over so great a distance, especially since Shirai had said that the Relic had only activated that once in response to the Remover. So the only thing that made any sense at all was that Balkus was somehow doing this to him for the Second Zoalord’s own sick amusement. Gyou had not known that Balkus had even possessed a sense of humor, but he was starting to wish that he had never found out that particular fact.

Gyou felt once again that his head was slowly being crushed in a vice, and as had been the case during his experience with the Relic, Gyou just wanted the pain to stop.


	37. Affliction

His eyes opened slowly, and for a second Masaki wondered just where he was. Staring at the off-white ceiling didn’t give him many answers, however, so Masaki rolled over. That was when he noticed that he was still in bed. Everything came back in brief flashes of memory after that: his son, Gyou, the battle, the fact that he was hiding in the very last place that he would have ever voluntarily gone. But at the time there hadn’t been any other options.

Truthfully, there still weren’t many options that Masaki could see, either for himself or for the Guyvers. _I wonder, what was that strange telepathic presence I felt?_ It had only been there for a minute, before he’d passed out from the intensity of it, but Masaki had just barely managed to hang on long enough to realize one thing: it wasn’t Balkus. Whoever this new player in their little drama was, they were a much stronger telepath than Balkus was on a good day.

If they worked for Chronos then it didn’t bode well for his chances against them, whoever _they_ turned out to be. _Just once, just one time, I wish things could be simple. But I suppose that’s a bit too much to ask, at least for us. _Masaki sighed, staring at the wall of his hospital room. Masaki supposed that he should get up now, if only so that Sho and the others would stop worrying about him.

Of course, that wouldn’t stop Mizuki from worrying on his behalf. Masaki winced as he remembered when she had found out about his condition. Her reaction had been more or less what he had expected from her, after knowing her for as long as he did. Mizuki was a lot like Sho in that respect: always ready to sacrifice her own comfort and happiness if it was to help someone else.

Levering himself out of bed, Masaki recoiled slightly as his feet touched the cold floor. Finally locating a pair of slippers, Masaki put them on and walked out of the room. He was particularly grateful to Sumio for letting him take a shower and giving him a change of clothes. Masaki thought that the shirt that he was currently wearing, light blue with stripes of green and darker blue, would have probably suited Kenji better. But still, it looked normal enough on him that Masaki wasn’t going to raise any objections about it.

As he left the hospital room where he’d been staying for the past two and a half days, Masaki couldn’t help but wonder just how they were going to start up their battles with Chronos from this deep inside one of the enemy’s bases. True, he had put on a good act of being calm and assured for Sho and the others, but in the end that was all it had been: an act.

Walking down the florescent-lit corridor, Masaki wondered for a moment just where all of the others had gone to. That they were all still inside the protected space of the laboratory was a safe assumption, since he and Sumio had taken great care to impress on them the importance of staying hidden. Makashima would probably also make sure that they would all stay out of sight, if only to keep himself from being discovered.

That last thing was probably an unfair presumption on his part, but at the moment Masaki was too tired to care.

XxXxX

At the outer edge of the forest that surrounded Mt. Minakami, far enough away from Takeshiro village that anyone who was actually awake this early would not see this new apparition, a dark figure detached itself from the shadows. The figure revealed itself to be a man dressed in a black, fitted leather outfit. His black hair and pale skin, along with the way he seemed to want to avoid the sunlight that slanted through the trees, gave the man an almost vampire-like air.

His shiny black hair was parted neatly, but oddly it was also brushed so that it completely covered his right eye. As he moved farther into the forest, the man’s single visible eye narrowed slightly. A small smile curved his thin lips. The others were arriving. Turning his thoughts back to his own journey the Zoalord Rienzi, seventh of the Twelve Overlords, continued on his way to Mt. Minakami.

XxXxX

Masaki’s search had taken him through three of the minor labs before he had gone to the basement’s lunchroom. That was where he had found the rest of the group. All of the rest of the group, including a few of Sumio’s fellow scientists that he hadn’t been introduced to as yet. The lunchroom itself was an odd combination of laboratory and cafeteria, and Masaki couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t the way that the main cafeteria was set up.

Such thoughts weren’t important, however, so Masaki put them out of his mind.

"Mr. Murakami!"

"Hi, Sho," Masaki said, turning to face one of his fellow rebels.

"Are you really sure you should be up so soon, Mr. Murakami?" Sho asked. "What about your body? You did receive serious injuries. Or, at least that’s what Prof. Odagiri, Tetsuro and Agito all told me. Shouldn’t you still be resting?"

"Don’t worry about me, Sho. We Proto-Zoalords heal very quickly," Masaki said. It was a half-truth at best.

"So you’re all right?" Sho asked hopefully.

"Yes, Sho. I’m all right," Masaki outright lied.


	38. Engagement

"What’s wrong, Mizuki?"

Masaki heard Tetsuro’s voice coming from behind him, and he turned around to look at the Segawa siblings. Mizuki was just turning away from her brother, a saddened expression on her face. Masaki knew that she would keep the promise she had made to him, so he wasn’t worried about that. But Tetsuro was a very observant person, who also cared deeply for his sister. If there was something on Mizuki’s mind that was bothering her, Tetsuro was sure to try and find out what it was.

"Oh it’s nothing," Mizuki lied. "I’m all right."

Tetsuro didn’t look very convinced, but luckily Sumio called everyone in the room to the large table in the center of it before he could ask anything more.

"Well, now that we’ve all had time to rest up and think about just what we’re doing here, I think it’s time that we started discussing what we’re going to do next," Sumio paused, looking discreetly at Masaki. "Though it’s true that we have extensive knowledge of the internal systems of Relics Point, the fact remains that we are still inside the enemy’s base. There are three thousand Zoanoids on standby at all times, and that’s not even counting the Sleeper Units in Takeshiro. And now, just to complicate things further, we also have two Zoalords to contend with," Sumio paused to catch his breath. "I think you can all see why it would be most unwise to enter this battle with only two Guyvers and a Proto-Zoalord."

There was a general consensus on this point, one that Masaki himself was quick to join in on. He may have wanted to get his revenge on Chronos, and on Commander Gyou in particular now, but Masaki had no desire to be killed before that could happen.

"So you see, to incur critical damage on both Mt. Minakami and Relics Point and to destroy this base entirely, we need to come up with a powerful force of our own to counter them," Sumio said.

"And, what would you suggest, Prof. Odagiri?" Makashima asked.

"The Relic itself," Sumio said, with such matter of fact flatness that Masaki felt his own eyebrows lift slightly.

Everyone else was a great deal more surprised by Sumio’s declaration than he was, judging by the shout that was repeated all around the table.

"Yes," Sumio said calmly, once the echoes of ‘the Relic?!’ had died down. "It’s as I explained to all of you before: the Relic is in fact one of the spacecraft that the Advents used to travel to Earth. The Relic is one huge biological organism, capable of withstanding and surviving the vacuum of deep space. This particular Relic is the only one in the world that has not been fossilized. Over the millions of years that it has been buried under Mt. Minakami, the Relic has somehow remained in a state of stasis. So, if this Relic could be made active again-"

"Relics Point would be utterly destroyed, and then Mt. Minakami with it," Masaki cut in. _And then Kenji would be able to rest in peace._ Masaki didn’t state that last part, however.

"But," Sho looked confused. "To do something like that, we’d need to _move_ the Relic. Is it even possible to do something like that?"

"I don’t know," Sumio admitted. "But if anyone would be able to do that, it would be you and Agito."

"I see," Makashima said calmly, nodding. "The Advents who originally maneuvered the pre-Relic spacecraft all wore Bio-Booster Armor. We, who have become Guyvers, would in fact have the best chance of getting inside the Relic and taking control."

"You two are our best hope," Sumio said, looking from Sho to Makashima.

"But how would we manage that?" Tetsuro asked. "What is actually inside the Relic? Is there a cockpit inside it?"

"No one is really sure," Sumio said. "No one has ever seen the interior of the Relic."

"How can that be?" Sho asked. "Weren’t the Guyvers found inside the Relic?"

"Yes, they were," Sumio said, nodding. "So please, let me clarify that: out of all the people who have been inside the Relic, not one of them has come out alive."

The reaction to this news, which even Masaki hadn’t heard, was a gasp that echoed around the large table.

"How is that possible?" Makashima demanded. "I thought that the Relic was meant to act as a transport. Wouldn’t its effectiveness as such be compromised if no one was able to enter it?"

"Yes, but I suspect that the fact that the only way one would be able to access the interior of the Relic is by using the Bio-Booster Armor Guyver is in fact a defensive measure."

"Really?" Makashima seemed skeptical. "And aside from that, the Relic does not have any other security measures or defenses?"

"No. Although the exterior shell of the Relic is extremely durable, the real defensive strength of the Relic is its hypodermal system," Sumio explained. "The hypodermal system of the Relic contains numerous layers, and although these can be penetrated by a man-made machine tool, each of them secrets solvents of a different composition when severed. No matter what kind of metal or alloy the tool is constructed out of, when exposed to these solvents it will disintegrate immediately."

"So, how did Chronos ever manage to get their hands on the Guyvers?" Sho asked, confused.

"After the destruction of countless pieces of equipment, Chronos finally discovered that the solvents were not as dangerous to living creatures as they were to inorganic materials," Sumio continued. "That was when they decided to start sending Zoanoids instead of machines to investigate the interior of the Relic. However, most of the Zoanoids that Chronos sent to perform internal investigations of the Relic dissolved before they made it past the hypodermal layers," here Sumio paused for a breath. "The Relic, you see, seals any holes that have been made in its outer hull. So, not only did the Zoanoids who were sent to perform the investigations have to make it through the hypodermal systems of the Relic on their way in, they were also faced with the daunting task of getting back out through the repaired layers," Sumio paused for breath again. "Only one of them managed to do this; that was the one that carried the Guyvers out of the Relic."

"What happened to that one?" Sho asked. "I thought that you said all of the Zoanoids who had been sent into the Relic had died."

"All of them did," Sumio said. "This one just happened to survive longer than the others. But it dissolved into goo right in front of our eyes after it had managed to retrieve the Guyvers from the Relic’s interior. So it’s as I told you: none of the people who have gone inside have ever come out alive."

"Then, how could we hope to do what no one else could?" Sho asked, turning to look from Sumio to Makashima.

"You and Agito possess the Bio-Booster Armor Guyver, just like the Advents who controlled the spacecraft originally," Sumio explained. "That will most likely be enough to grant you access to the Relic’s interior and protection from whatever lies beyond the hypodermal layers."

"Very well then," Makashima said calmly, rising from his place at the table. "Fukamachi and I will attempt to enter the Relic."

Sho stood up just before Makashima had finished speaking, nodding his assent. "Right, Agito."

Almost as one, everyone else who had been sitting at the table stood up and made their way out into another of the smaller, secondary laboratories.


	39. Orders

"Dr. Akers, make sure there’s no one in the main basement area with the Relic," Sumio ordered, once all of them were inside the laboratory together. "Dr. Baker, make sure you alert me the moment that any other Chronos employees enter this level. We’re going to be heading out to the Relic and I don’t want to chance our being discovered."

"Yes, Professor," a scientist with blond hair and glasses acknowledged.

"I’ll make sure you aren’t interrupted, sir," another scientist, this one with scruffy-looking black hair, nodded and turned back to his monitoring console.

"Dr. Jackson?" Sumio called.

"I already have them ready, Professor," said a lean man with dirty-blond hair, carrying over a pair of hexagonal packs with small cameras mounted on them. "These cameras will allow you to see anything that the Guyvers see while they are inside the Relic spacecraft. I’ve also added an extra setup that will allow you to communicate with the Guyvers while they are inside the spacecraft itself."

"Thank you very much for your promptness, Dr. Jackson," Sumio said.

"Always happy to be of help, Professor," Dr. Jackson said, as he handed the both of the camera / communicator setups over to Sumio then turned and walked away.

"All right," Sumio said, holding up the two pieces of equipment that Dr. Jackson had given him. "Now that we’re as safe as we can be in a place like this, let’s see if we can’t make the Relic work for us. Dr. Akers, are we still clear?"

"We’re clear, Professor," the black-haired man, obviously Dr. Akers, said.

"Thank you," Sumio said. Then, turning to address the rest of the group, Sumio spoke again. "Well, let’s get going."

Masaki nodded wordlessly, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Makashima doing the same.

"We’ll be right behind you, Prof. Odagiri," Sho said.

Together, their group walked out into the cavernous main area in the basement where the Relic spacecraft was kept. Masaki was slightly on edge, since they would all be completely exposed if any one of Chronos’ army of Zoanoids came into the room. Even with Akers and Baker monitoring the surveillance cameras, Masaki couldn’t really settle himself enough to accept that they would all be safe here. Resolving to keep a close watch on the others, Masaki kept walking.

XxXxX

"Find Guyver I," Gyou ordered a large group of Standard Zoanoids as they stood at attention in front of him. "I don’t care how long you have to search, how many losses you suffer, or what else you have to do. I want Guyver I!"

"Yes sir, Commander Gyou!"

Gyou nodded, as satisfied as he could be under the circumstances. _It has been more than a week since the Guyver and his little group disappeared. I know that I killed Makashima and his little band, but it is most annoying that that weakling Guyver I managed to escape. And from Takeshiro at that, a place that Chronos has complete control of. I do not understand how that annoying boy could have possibly managed it._ Gyou gritted his teeth, aggravated that he had to go to such absurd lengths to find a single human boy.

Sho Fukamachi had been proven many times to be a weak-minded, overprotective little fool. Gyou simply could not understand how such a weak human could be able to survive against Chronos for so long. It was aggravating in the extreme, both in the fact that his Zoanoids were unable to find a simple human boy – Guyver-enhanced or not – and because it was frustrating Gyou’s plans for the future.

Then, as if Sho Fukamachi wasn’t enough of a thorn in his side, Gyou also had to contend with Balkus prying into his affairs. _Though I now possess the Remover, the Remover itself is useless without the Guyver to use it on. Things just don’t seem to be going as smoothly as I want them to. The hazards of being ambitious, I suppose. _That thought made Gyou chuckle slightly, even in spite of his annoyance with his currant situation.

As he walked down the hall to his quarters, Gyou made an effort not to fume over his predicament. Maybe after Gyou had relaxed and refreshed himself, he would be able to find another solution to his problem. Just as he was about to take another step, a blinding gold-white light filled the hallway in front of him from floor to ceiling. Along with the light, there came an immense psychic pressure, a force that Gyou could almost swear he felt pressing down on him physically.

_What _is_ this? This telepathic force is impossibly strong! But it doesn’t feel at all like that old fool Balkus. Who could this be?_ Gyou was at least thankful that this newcomer, whoever they were, did not cause him pain the way that the activation of the Relic had done. Having to deal with that kind of pain even once had been far more than enough; three times in one month would have been more than even Gyou himself could have handled.

The newcomer’s footfalls echoed strongly inside the enclosed space of the hallway, as if whoever was walking was far heavier and more substantial than Gyou. In fact, it even sounded as if this one was even heavier than Tuarhan De Galenos, no small feat since the Eighth Zoalord even outmassed Gyou himself by a few hundred pounds. The light shrouding the figure was starting to die down by now, but not the overwhelming telepathic pressure.

It should not have been possible for anyone to telepathically overwhelm Gyou in this way, since he himself was a Zoalord. Gyou clenched his teeth as he sensed Balkus teleporting in behind him. _Perfect, just when I had thought this day couldn’t get any more aggravating. _Gyou was starting to feel slightly apprehensive, not that he would have ever admitted it to anyone, but for the moment his curiosity about this newcomer was greater than his fear.

As the bright light receded still further, Gyou began to be able to make out more details of the figure. The first things that he noticed were the yellow eyes. They were not really that much like his own; the eyes of the newcomer were in fact almost feline.

"Hello again, Reholt Gyou," the apparition said, as the last of the light obscuring his face died down. "It _has_ been a long time since we last met. Of course, the last time I saw you was when you were still in the processing-tank. Therefore, I don’t think it would be presumptuous of me to assume that you do not remember me."

Gyou could now see that the newcomer had hair that was a paler blond than even his own, as well as having pointed ears that made Gyou think of one of those interminable Tolkien books that he had tried to read once. He remembered that the species that had had those kinds of ears had been called Elves. Gyou shuddered slightly at the power he could still sense emanating from the newcomer. Looking into those feline eyes wasn’t doing much for his equilibrium either, Gyou had to admit.

"Ambition without discretion will bring only ruin," the blond Zoalord – Gyou knew now that that was what he was, a _Zoalord_ – said mysteriously. "Now show me: where is it?"


	40. Betrayal

Gyou fought to suppress another shudder and was mostly successful. There wasn’t any way, not a single way that this Zoalord could know about the Remover. And there was even less of a chance that he would know about Murakami’s son. It was just not possible.

"I’ve no idea what you’re talking about," Gyou said, as calmly as he was able.

"Don’t try to lie to _me_, Reholt. I know you found it here," the other Zoalord said with a great deal more calmness than Gyou felt at the moment. "And I also know that only you would be foolish enough to try and use the device for your own ends. Now, tell me where the Unit Remover is, and I will perhaps reconsider my judgment of you."

It took a great amount of Gyou’s vaunted self-control to keep his face from revealing how utterly shocked he was. That this Zoalord already knew all about the Remover and what Gyou had planed to do with it, it was no small thing. _But I suppose I should be thankful that my other little project is still a secret. But still, how could he have even known about the Remover? I remember that Balkus once told me about another Zoalord, one who had greater power than… No, no it couldn’t be… Is _this_ Alkanphel?_

"I truly do not know what you are talking about," Gyou lied with increasing desperation. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

"I warn you, Reholt," Alkanphel said, seeming only slightly annoyed. "I will not tolerate betrayal from one of my own."

"_Betrayal_?" Gyou asked, feigning hurt. Behind him, Gyou sensed Balkus teleporting away and wondered just why the other Zoalord had even bothered coming in the first place. "From _me_? I would never do anything that was not in the best interests of Chronos."

"I’m sure you wouldn’t," and Alkanphel actually sounded _sarcastic_ as he said that. "And, if you would just hand over the Remover like a good boy, I would be willing to overlook your recent deeds at this time. Since I do in fact require all twelve Zoalords for my plan."

Gyou’s first reaction was rage, that anyone would patronize him in such a way was an affront to his pride. Then Gyou remembered just what kind of creature he was dealing with: a Zoalord that would easily be able to both defeat and annihilate the other twelve Overlords with ease. If Balkus’ stories were to be believed, of course. But with what he was feeling now from Alkanphel, Gyou was more inclined to believe them.

It was not something that Gyou liked to have to admit, but he was at least practical enough to acknowledge when an adversary outmatched him. It was one of the reasons that he had survived for so long. _I can’t believe that, after all I went through to obtain the Remover, he just comes along and decides to take it from me. Well, I suppose I should be thankful for small favors. He still doesn’t know about my other project, at least._

"What other project are you referring to, Reholt?" Alkanphel asked.

Gyou nearly swallowed his tongue. "Other project? Where did you ever get the idea that I had another project aside from the Remover?" Gyou asked, trying to keep his voice from giving away the fact that he was lying.

Alkanphel’s felinoid eyes narrowed still further, and Gyou realized at last that it hadn’t been anything in his face or voice that had given him away. Alkanphel, of course, possessed the same kind of telepathic powers that all Zoalords had; only his were enhanced to the _nth_ degree. Gyou, who had been too distracted by surprise to erect a proper mental barrier, knew that it was most likely too late for him to convince Alkanphel that there was nothing unfavorable going on.

But still Gyou had to make at least one last attempt, doomed as it may very well have been.

"Tell me, Reholt," Alkanphel ordered, and there was no mistaking the fact that it _was_ an order this time. "What is this other project of yours?"

"I have already told you, Lord Alkanphel, that I have no projects other than the Remover," Gyou lied, trying to subtly put up a strong enough mental shield that Alkanphel wouldn’t be able to tell that he was still lying.

Even with his enhanced eyesight, Gyou could barely see what happened next. All he knew was that Alkanphel had been standing in front of him one second, and in the next Gyou had found his head in the powerful grip of the First Zoalord. He could see Alkanphel’s golden eyes start to glow, and the next thing that Gyou knew he was…

_Standing in the forest looking down at Murakami’s son… carrying the boy down to the disused laboratory at the lowest level of Mt. Minakami… leaving the child in the care of his two loyal scientists and giving them specific instructions about what to do with him… planning what to do once he had both the Remover and Murakami’s son fully prepared…_

Gyou gasped for air once the connection was severed, feeling as if he had just been violated. He supposed that that was in a way just what had happened.

"A _child_, Reholt?" Alkanphel sounded supremely disgusted. "You were low enough to use a human who has existed for barely seven years as your warrior?"

Gyou could just _feel_ the waves of Alkanphel’s anger radiating to fill the space. The entire hallway, even with as large as it was, seemed barely adequate to contain the pure fury that the First Zoalord was giving off in abundance.

_-I am claiming this Kenji Murakami as my own,-_ Alkanphel’s rage was all the more potent for being controlled. _-You are not to try and influence the boy in any way. Do I make myself clear, Reholt?-_

_-Yes, Lord Alkanphel. Perfectly clear,- _Gyou fumed. There was nothing he could do about it, of course, since Alkanphel would overpower him in a heartbeat. But it still rankled Gyou to have to admit that.

"Now, Reholt. There is still the matter of the Remover," Alkanphel said, with such calm that one might think that Gyou’s and his conversation of the past few minutes had never happened. "Will you hand it over to me quietly, or…"

Gyou’s own rage, less controlled than Alkanphel’s but no less potent, erupted then. He was tired of being treated like a Zoanoid. He was not just some expendable piece of cannon fodder to be tossed aside like such at the slightest whim. He was the Twelfth Zoalord, and if he had to kill the First to prove his own worth, then so be it.

"Just hand over the Remover to you? After all I went through to get it?" Gyou chuckled coldly. "Never."

Gyou’s Control Zoacrystal lit up, as he transformed into his well nigh invulnerable Zoalord form. The blast of pressure and energy that heralded the transformation caved a large hole in the floor and blew an equal-sized hole in the ceiling. Falling more than leaping through the hole in the floor, Gyou landed in front of a very surprised Zoanoid. Paying no mind to the queries of the lower soldier, Gyou ran as fast as he was able.

He had to get to the basement before Alkanphel did, and Gyou could only hope that Alkanphel did not know his way around Mt. Minakami. After all, Gyou himself had only just managed to memorize enough teleport points to be able to comfortably get around inside the base. Hopefully Alkanphel, who had presumably never been to Mt. Minakami before, would not be able to follow him.


	41. Relic

As he and Agito made their way into the Relic spacecraft, Sho marveled again at how the exterior had just opened up for them. As if they were expected, and welcome. The floor under his feet was soft and squishy, and Sho couldn’t help wondering for a moment just what it was made of. Looking over at Agito, Sho almost asked him if he was thinking the same thing.

Then Sho decided to shelve those thoughts for later, some time when the fate of all the people he cared about wasn’t depending on his and Agito’s speed. Getting the Relic under their control probably wasn’t going to be easy, and there was still the chance that Chronos would begin to suspect something. Sho shuddered, not wanting to think about what would happen to them all if Chronos found out they were here.

And now, the lives of Prof. Odagiri and all of his scientists were in danger as well. Prof. Odagiri hadn’t said what Chronos had done to Prof. Yamamura when he had freed Mr. Murakami, but Sho suspected it was something that was better left unknown. Given Chronos’ methods in the past, what they had done to Prof. Odagiri’s mentor was probably something that the other scientist didn’t want to think about.

It took a few seconds for Sho to notice that Agito had stopped walking, and he was just about to ask what was going on when he noticed that Agito was talking.

"It seems like we’ve reached the end of those hypodermal layers you warned us about, Prof. Odagiri," Agito said, and Sho realized that he was speaking into his comm-link.

"Good work," Prof. Odagiri’s voice crackled over the comm. "Was there any difficulty for you getting inside?"

"None," Agito said calmly, as Sho nodded. "It seems that your hypothesis about the Guyvers allowing us to access the interior of the Relic was correct."

"Good. There should be another barrier in front of you. Do you see it?" Prof. Odagiri asked.

Sho could indeed see the barrier that Prof. Odagiri was talking about, but it was Agito who answered his question. Agito turned to Sho, nodding as the other Guyver caught up to him.

"Yes, we have just come to it."

"All right," Prof. Odagiri said, sighing with what Sho hoped was relief. "That’s where we lost contact with the other teams in the past. So be careful you two."

"Don’t worry, Prof. Odagiri, we will be," Sho said, as Agito turned back to the wall in front of them.

Agito glanced backward once more, over his shoulder at the opening that he and Sho had both come through about fifteen minutes ago.

"Sho, look behind you!"

Sho whipped his head around; ready to use the Pressure Cannon or the Mega-Smasher on any Zoanoid that had managed to make it this far. But what Sho saw wasn’t a Zoanoid, a Zoalord, or any of Chronos’ other monstrous minions. What Sho saw was the wall of the Relic sealing itself closed. Sho’s first, instinctive, reaction to this was relief; at least there were no Zoanoids and all of the others were still safe.

Then, the full importance of what he had seen was driven home. "We’re- we’re trapped in here?"

"It appears that he are," Agito said, sounding composed again after his earlier surprise.

Sho started to hear a hissing/splattering noise then, as if someone had turned on the tap at a sink. But Sho was fairly sure that there weren’t any sinks inside the Relic, and so he wondered what could be making that sound.

"Agito, can you hear that?" Sho asked, as he looked around to try and see where the sound was coming from.

"Yes, I can."

That was when the trickling of liquid became a deluge, spraying out of openings high up in the walls that Sho hadn’t even seen before. The liquid, whatever it was, soon came up to the two Guyvers’ knees and showed no sign of stopping.

"So, now it’s an inundation tactic," Agito sounded remarkably calm as he said this.

Sho, seeing that the liquid didn’t seem to be doing any damage to either his Guyver or Agito’s, held his hand under a falling stream of the stuff. The liquid seemed more like water than anything else, even though Sho couldn’t make out the color of it in the dim light of the Relic’s interior. Prof. Odagiri’s voice came back over the comm then, and Sho was grateful that whatever kind or liquid was being pored over them at least hadn’t shorted out their equipment.

"Get out of there right now, both of you!" he shouted. "I don’t want to risk the two of you getting killed in there. We’ll find another way."

"No, Prof. Odagiri," Agito said. "This seems different than what you described before. This liquid doesn’t seem like a solvent or a poison."

Sho, hearing a sloshing sound that came from behind Agito, turned to look over his fellow Guyver’s shoulder. There was another opening forming, seemingly out of nowhere just like the last two had done. It was strange to think about how this whole ship seemed to be alive, and stranger still that Sho that he didn’t really consider it all that strange anymore. It was probably all the things that he had dealt with up to this point; Chronos and their endless army of Zoanoids, Mr. Murakami, and the Guyver of course.

"Well, I guess we know where the Relic wants us to go next," Agito said.

"Yeah," Sho muttered, staring into the opening.

Both Guyvers stepped up to the newly formed opening in the wall. The space behind it was cavernous, and even with the extra senses of their Guyvers, Sho and Agito had trouble seeing the end of it. There were huge growths, the size of the American Redwoods that Sho had read about in some of his textbooks, sticking up out of the ground and the walls and continuing up until they reached the ceiling.

Sho wondered what they were there for, up until he saw Agito stepping carefully down off of the ledge in front of them. Sho did the same after a second or two of hesitation. The liquid helped to slow their fall, and the Guyvers landed a great deal more gently than they would have if they’d been falling through open air. Agito and Sho started walking again, Agito in the lead of course.

They had barely taken ten steps, though, before Sho heard the by-now-familiar sloshing sound that heralded the opening of another passageway inside the Relic.

"Agito, above us," Sho called, pointing upward. "Look."

"And behind us, Sho," Agito commented, turning to look back the way they had come. "I suppose that the Relic never had an actual opening in the first place. Any living creature that possesses the Bio-Booster Armor can create an entrance into the spacecraft if the host entity’s will is strong enough. But for any foreign entities that manage somehow to force their way inside, the walls of the ship will secrete powerful, corrosive solvents to prevent such an invasion. That must be how it works. Prof. Odagiri, can you give us our currant location please?"

"I’d be glad to," Prof. Odagiri said. "You have just passed the last of the hypodermal layers. What you’re standing in right now is one of the smaller chambers, shaped roughly like the cell of an orange. We think it was used as a storage space or a living area."

Sho looked around in astonishment; if this was one of the smaller chambers, then Sho could only just imagine the sheer size of the other rooms.

"Continue moving toward the center of the Relic," Prof. Odagiri instructed calmly. "You will, in all likelihood, be able to find the navigation control room there."

"Yes Professor, we’ll do it just as you instructed," Agito said.

They swam, which was odd for Sho to think about but easy for him to do, up to the top of the chamber and through the next opening.


	42. Infiltration

The wall of the laboratory exploded inward as Gyou’s full weight slammed into it, and Gyou only had a moment to be thankful that it was not the one where Murakami’s son was being held. That was when Alkanphel’s presence made itself known again, far stronger this time. Cursing in his native German, Gyou turned quickly back to the hole he had just made in the wall. Charging up another Gravity Bullet, Gyou let loose with his attack once he could see Alkanphel more clearly.

The dust from his impromptu entrance had settled enough for Gyou to be able to see Alkanphel raising his right hand. Even if he hadn’t been able to see that one action, Gyou was sure that he would have been able to sense it when Alkanphel’s forcefield snapped into place. The power of his Gravity Bullet was dispersed and scattered over the walls, not even touching the First Zoalord.

"_Verdammen_!"

Blasting a new exit for himself, through four layers of reinforced concrete, Gyou let himself fall down it. There really wasn’t much danger for him, at least not from anything but Alkanphel, so Gyou wasn’t concerned about anything – or anyone – that he might land on.

XxXxX

Zektor stopped in his pacing, and quietly seething, for a minute to watch what was going on in the rest of the base. It looked like Commander Gyou was on the warpath, but it also looked like he had been spooked by something. Zektor hadn’t thought it was even possible for Commander Gyou to be spooked by anything, but whatever this new threat was, it seeming to be doing the job.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Gaster demanded. "Why is the Commander going on a rampage like that?"

"I’m not really sure of that myself," Zektor said. "But whatever the reason, it seems to have something to do with whatever’s chasing him."

"What could give the Commander this much trouble?" Darzerb asked.

"Aptom couldn’t have managed to get inside the base somehow, could he?" Gaster asked nervously.

If any of the remaining members of Team Five had looked over at a certain Zoanoid, one whose uniform was battered and torn, they would have seen him start to smirk. They would have also seen that this Zoanoid possessed a large and rather distinctive burn scar on the right side of his face. But none of them turned to look at him, and so none of them would find out his true nature until it was too late.

"I doubt it," Zektor said. "Besides, even if he had, I don’t think he’d be strong enough to put the Commander on the run like this."

"Do you think it could be one of the Guyvers?" Darzerb asked.

"That’s a possibility," Zektor said. "But still, I don’t think even two Guyvers working together could give the Commander this much trouble."

"Well, if it’s not Aptom and it’s not the Guyvers, then who could be doing this?" Gaster asked. "Who could make the Commander so desperate to escape that he’d go on a rampage this way?"

"I don’t know," Zektor said. "That’s what scares me. And I don’t like the fact that we haven’t received any orders from Dr. Balkus, either."

"Yeah," Darzerb commiserated. "I wonder what happened to him?"

Zektor sighed, and didn’t say anything else.

XxXxX

The wall behind him and to his right exploded under the force of Alkanphel’s Gravity Bullet, Gyou felt the shrapnel pelt his back as he ran.

_-Where are you running to, Reholt?-_ he heard Alkanphel ask.

_-None of your damn business! Get the hell away from me!-_

Another barrage of his own Gravity Bullets, which did about as much to stop the First Zoalord as throwing water balloons at him, left Gyou a fair amount more breathless than he would have liked. This running battle, while it had seemed at first like a good method to wear _Alkanphel_ down, was instead doing just the opposite. Indeed, for all the fatigue he was showing, the First Zoalord could just as well have been sleeping while Gyou had been attacking.

Grumbling various vile curses at the First Zoalord as well as the Second, Gyou blasted another hole in the floor and leapt through it. There had to be some way to lose Alkanphel before they both made it to the basement. There _had_ to be!

XxXxX

Zektor had made up his mind by now, after watching the monitor cameras go haywire one by one as the Commander passed them. There was only one way to find out just what was going on with the Commander; and that was to go out and find him. He and Darzerb could help the Commander if he needed them, but Gaster would have to stay behind since his weapons weren’t really suited for indoor combat.

"Darzerb, come with me," Zektor ordered. "We’re going to look for the Commander, see if we can help him with whatever it is he’s doing. Gaster, you stay here and hold down the fort."

"Why are you leaving me out?" Gaster asked, mildly indignant. "I can fight just as well as either of you."

"I know that," Zektor rushed to reassure his fellow Hyper Zoanoid. "But you can’t use your weapons inside the base, so you’d be helpless if Aptom or the Guyvers suddenly showed up and tried to take advantage of the situation. Can you even imagine how far they’d be able to get with us not knowing who’s even responsible for all this destruction? It’s chaos out there. So it’s really for the best that you stay here and see if you can get a grip on the situation. Besides," Zektor winked. "You’re the tactician here, I’m just the grunt-man."

"Yeah, or the grunt-bug," Gaster chuckled. "Still, I can see what you mean. I _am_ probably the only one who could manage to make heads or tails of this mess."

"Don’t let it go to your head, pink-boy," Zektor said, catching Gaster’s jokingly smug tone.

"Oh, go on already," Gaster shot back, enjoying their banter. "You’re annoying me."

After a few seconds of fierce internal debate, Zektor reluctantly decided not to pop Gaster one for that. Rolling his eyes in that long-suffering way he had done so many times instead, Zektor heard Gaster chuckle.

"Come on Darzerb, let’s get going," Zektor said, signaling for the largest member of Team Five to follow him

"Coming."

Gaster, watching his fellow Hyper Zoanoids leave, sighed once they were out the door and out of sight. He might have agreed with Zektor’s reasons for leaving him here, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it. Being stuck in here, not even able to see what was happening to his teammates since all the cameras in the area where the Commander had last been sighted had all been knocked out by the Commander’s energy field, was not something that Gaster was prepared to take lying down.

One thing was for sure: Zektor was going to get a stern talking to when he got back. Gaster almost had to laugh at himself for that thought, it made him sound like someone’s dad. The click of boots on the linoleum made Gaster turn, curious about just who was coming. One of the Combat Agents, one who looked like he had been roughed up quite a bit judging from the state of his uniform, was giving him an understanding look.

"They’re going to be all right," the Standard Zoanoid said calmly.

"Yeah, I know that," Gaster said, sighing. "They’re two of the best, and Hyper Zoanoids at that. But still, I wish I could go out there with them."

"Oh, you’ll get your chance," the Zoanoid’s tone was now distinctly sly.


	43. Hunter

Gaster was confused by the Zoanoid’s sudden change of attitude, but then he noticed the large and very distinctive burn scar that marred the right side of the Zoanoid’s face.

"Hey wait, you’re-!"

"You have a keen grasp of the obvious, pink boy," Aptom sneered, as his hand closed off Gaster’s air supply.

All that Gaster could do was make pitiful, choked-off sounds of protest as Aptom’s grip on his neck tightened. Looking around wildly at the two other Combat Agents in the room, Gaster saw that they were slowly turning around to face him. Gaster was relieved, up until the two Zoanoids turned to face him. Gaster saw the scarring, and he knew then just how much trouble he was in. Hell, he could even feel Aptom’s cells eating away at his own throat by this time.

Aptom the first took his helmet off, staring down at Gaster with amused contempt.

"I said I had to eat and run," Aptom laughed. "I never said I wouldn’t be back for a second course. Or in your case, I guess a third."

Gaster sunk to the ground as the strength went out of his legs, struggling to breathe past the knot of Aptom’s invading cells. "Damn you," he managed to gasp out, leaning with his back against the monitoring console.

"Is that the best you could come up with?" Aptom sneered, looking more amused than ever. "Come on, the _least_ you could do is try to put some effort into it."

But by this time Gaster could barely breathe, let alone get up enough reserve oxygen to tell Aptom that he was a miserable fucking bastard. Gaster was even starting to hear Aptom’s voice, and a few others but Aptom’s was the most prominent, echoing through what was left of his own mind. Gaster, realizing that he still had at least partial control of his right arm, struggled to move it. There wasn’t any way he could fight off Aptom with the use of only one arm, of course, but Gaster didn’t intend to try and fight anymore.

"Well, that’s at least _something_," Aptom smirked, watching as Gaster jerkily flipped him off.

As the last of his own mind dissolved into the hive-mind that was Aptom, Gaster could swear that there was something familiar in that stew of minds. Something that he _knew_…

Aptom’s smirk widened into a grin as he saw "Gaster" rise back to his feet. The eyes of the former Hyper Zoanoid were now a deep blood red, and the hair had already changed to match his own. Well, mostly, since Aptom could still see streaks of pink in his new clone’s black hair. But then after a few seconds, they were gone and Aptom’s new clone grinned back at him.

"So boss, what’s next on the menu?" he asked.

"Oh, you’ll _like_ this," the original Aptom said, considering and then deciding against using a faux French accent to announce what he had in mind. "Next on the early dinner special: Hyper Zoanoid Bug, and Hyper Zoanoid Rhino."

"Sounds tasty," Aptom’s second clone grinned.

"Well, if we manage to catch up to them, I’m sure they will be," Aptom’s third clone chuckled. "Well boss, who gets to go out there with you? _I’m_ feeling kinda hungry, personally."

"You ate just half an hour ago," Aptom chided. "So you’ll just have to wait."

"Yeah, but that was just a _Standard_ Zoanoid," Aptom’s third clone wheedled. "You know what they say about Standard Zoanoids, eat one and a half hour later you’ll be hungry again."

"No, that’s Chinese food," Aptom’s second clone shot back.

"Oh can it already, the both of you," Aptom broke in. "Now, if you two can manage to be civil to each other for another ten minutes, I’ll tell you how we’re going to do this."

XxXxX

Looking out over the rubble scattered in the hallway, Zektor could just barely manage to repress a shudder. It definitely _looked_ like the Guyvers had been set loose inside the base. But that was impossible, and it was even more impossible since Guyver III had been killed by the Commander, at least according to all of the reports Zektor had gotten. But still, Zektor didn’t know of anything else that could give a Zoalord like the Commander this much trouble.

_I always thought that that Fukamachi kid was kind of a pushover. But if he managed to get this far, do this much damage, _and_ put the Commander on the run like this, I think I’m going to have to revise my opinion of him._ Zektor sighed, shaking his head. All of that was only _if_ it had been Guyver I who had done all this damage, and that was a pretty big if.

"Still no word from Dr. Balkus," Darzerb said, sounding morose. "What about you?"

"No contact on my end, either," not quite sure yet whether he was more worried for the Doctor or the Commander, Zektor’s voice was almost toneless.

"Do you think Dr. Balkus could be-"

"No!" Zektor said sharply, not even wanting to _think_ about that possibility. "Dr. Balkus is one of the most resourceful people in Chronos, there’s no chance that Guyver I – or whoever this is – managed to take him out. Not a _chance_."

"Yeah," Darzerb said, nodding. "You’re right."

Zektor nodded to himself sharply. Turning his attention back to the ruined hallway, Zektor continued walking.

"Well, we’ve checked every location where the monitors went ‘blooey’," Darzerb said, and Zektor had to chuckle at his choice of words. "We’ve even gone over them a second and a third time, too. But we still haven’t managed to find the Commander. And even Dr. Balkus is a no-show."

"I know," Zektor sighed. "I hope Dr. Balkus is all right. More than that, I hope we get to the Commander in time to-"

Something that he had seen just half a minute ago finally registered in Zektor’s conscious mind, and the leader of what was left of Team Five turned with a decisive snap. Ignoring Darzerb’s confused look, Zektor looked up at the ceiling, hoping that he hadn’t really seen what he thought he had.


	44. Prey

"Shit! Darzerb, look out!"

Darzerb didn’t waste any time asking what he was talking about, which Zektor was profoundly grateful for, he just transformed. The blast of fiery heat seared the air, and also gave Aptom a few good third-degree burns. _The bastard actually thought that I would let him get his filthy mitts on another one of my friends,_ Zektor growled mentally.

"Aptom?! How the hell did _you_ manage to get in here?"

"I ate one of the guards," Aptom said, grinning hungrily at them. "Now I think I’m going to eat one of you."

"Oh, is that what you think?" Zektor snarled, seething. "Well, cannibal, you’re about to find out that we of the Hyper Zoanoid Team Five don’t go down so easily."

Aptom giggled, slowly and languorously standing back up. _Damn, he’s hot… I did not just think that! _Zektor mentally ranted. _This is Aptom! This is the bastard who ate two of my friends alive! This is the bastard who wants to have Darzerb and me for a quick snack! I don’t care if he looks really good in the buff or that he has nice abs! I hate the fucking son of a bitch!_

Zektor focused on all of his rage at Aptom, all of the seething hatred that he felt toward the Lost Unit for murdering and then _eating_ two of his friends. Though it was mostly his rage about Elegen that kept Zektor from wondering just how the scars on Aptom’s face would feel under his tongue.

"It’s time to die, cannibal!" Zektor shouted, as he transformed into his huge Hyper Zoanoid form.

Before Aptom could say another word, indeed before the renegade Lost Unit could take even a single step, the laser set atop Zektor’s head had punched a hole almost the size of a bowling ball in Aptom’s upper chest. Aptom, evidently trying to repair himself somehow, turned into some bizarre amalgamation of all of the Zoanoids and Hyper Zoanoids he’d presumably absorbed to get into this place.

_Well, at least I don’t have to worry about any more erotic fantasies,_ Zektor chuckled to himself. _No one could have any erotic fantasies about _that_ thing!_ Then Zektor became deadly serious. Aptom was injured now, which would make it all the easier for Zektor and Darzerb to kill him. And kill him they would, but only after they’d made him suffer for what he had done to Elegen and Zancrus.

XxXxX

They had reached the center of the Relic by now, he and Agito, and the room they stood in was even larger than any of the other areas that they had had to pass through on their way here. There were no controls in evidence though, no way that Sho could see for anyone to pilot this ship. _But if this is the cockpit, there has to be some way for us to gain control of the Relic. I mean, that’s why we came here in the first place._

"Prof. Odagiri, I think that it is safe to say that we have made it to the navigation control center," Agito said.

"Good work, you two," Prof. Odagiri said, sounding relieved. "You should be able to gain control of the Relic from there."

Again, Sho had to wonder just how they were going to be able to do that. That was when Sho felt the familiar tingle in his forehead that meant that the Control Medal was reacting to something.

"Agito, my Control Medal…" Sho began, then trailed off as he saw that Guyver III’s Control Medal reacting the same way.

"Yes, mine too," Agito said, somewhat unnecessarily.

The tingling in Sho’s forehead became more intense, and he saw that Agito’s Control Medal was glowing more brightly as well. The room that they were standing in lit up suddenly, letting Sho finally get a real look at how large the room they were in was. There were a few gasps from the comm set-up on Sho’s back, but other than that there was silence from the people.

But just because there were very few human sounds coming over the comms didn’t mean that all was silent inside the Relic. There was an odd swooshing-hum coming from the walls and floor. For a moment Sho thought back to the place that he and Agito had just come through. The place where the three Guyver Units had been stored.

He wondered just what the large object that had been dug out of the center of the Guyver holders could have possibly been. Prof. Odagiri had said that, whatever it was, it had probably been related to the Guyvers somehow. Now that, whatever it was, was in the hands of Chronos Sho just hoped that it wouldn’t be anything that could cause trouble for them.

A glow from a pedestal set into the center of the room drew Sho’s attention back to the situation at hand. There was something on that pedestal, something that drew Sho’s attention like a magnet. It looked almost like the Control Medal that he and Agito had, but larger. It was also more obviously a sphere. Sho would have guessed that the glowing sphere was about the size of a softball.

"That metal sphere in the center, that looks just like the Control Medal," Tetsuro said, his interest plainly obvious even over the slight distortion of the comm.

Sho, getting a strange feeling, craned his neck to look up at the ceiling. "Tetsuro, there’s one on the ceiling, too. What do you think they are?"

Before Tetsuro could think of anything to say in response to Sho’s question, both metallic spheres started to glow with an intense light. Sho was puzzled, wondering just why they were glowing. It probably had something to do with his and Agito’s Control Medals, but Sho wondered just what the connection could be.


	45. Anticipation

The telepathic pressure on his mind increased exponentially as Alkanphel drew ever closer, and Gyou had to struggle to maintain his sense of self. It would have been so easy to lose himself in Alkanphel’s presence; to become just another mindless, sniveling lackey like Balkus. But Gyou was not one to give up on a struggle so easily, even if his enemy was as powerful as the First Zoalord was proving to be.

Still, Gyou had at least learned that it was best to make himself scarce when Alkanphel was close. He needed to gather his power and his strength before Alkanphel caught up to him if he was ever going to have even a hope of killing the First. However, Gyou was caught off-guard when the wall behind him started exploding, presumably blown open from behind by Alkanphel’s energy attacks. Before Gyou could start running again, he found himself in a chokehold.

_-Were you really so foolish as to think that you could escape from me, Reholt?-_

_-Stranger things have happened,-_ Gyou just managed to gain enough composure to say.

Alkanphel’s eyes were glowing white, and Gyou could feel the waves of the First Zoalord’s power rippling in the air. It was going to be a hard-fought battle, but then that would just make his victory all the sweeter. Before Gyou could consider his next move, Alkanphel threw him through the wall that he had been standing in front of. The fall itself was more of a minor nuisance than a problem, but Gyou was still determined not to be beaten by Alkanphel. No matter how powerful the First was.

Still, Gyou was at least practical enough to know that he wouldn’t have even a snowball’s chance in hell of fighting off the First Zoalord if he didn’t manage to rest and regain at lest some of his stamina. Either that, or find Sho Fukamachi and use the Remover on him. That was the scenario that Gyou was most hoping for, but right now any scenario where he didn’t die fighting Alkanphel was a good one as far as he was concerned.

Of course, a key part of being able to survive Alkanphel was staying out of his way, especially at this stage when Gyou knew that his own stamina was not quite, okay not at all, up to the level of the First Zoalord. And there was still the matter of the Remover, stored in the basement and just waiting for him to come and claim it. Even if he didn’t manage to find Guyver I, perhaps he could still use the Remover, if only as a bludgeon or some other form of blunt object.

The casing of the Remover did seem very durable, indeed when Gyou had been handling it he had been impressed with the strength of the outer shell. But there was a time to think about such things, and this was most definitely not it. Kicking a hole in the floor, so that he wouldn’t need to use up any more of his now-precious energy reserves, Gyou leapt down to a lower level.

XxXxX

Alkanphel, the Supreme Zoalord of Chronos, was quickly losing the mild amusement that he had had when Reholt had first tried to rebel. It was simply not possible for one of his children to stand against him, hence his earlier amusement at the situation. However, he had initially expected Reholt to realize this fact as well and relinquish these absurd ideas that he had had about taking the Supreme Zoalord’s position from him.

Perhaps the boy Kenji Murakami would make a suitable replacement for his rebellious Twelfth Zoalord. The boy was young, hence easily trainable in the ways of Chronos, and he would not be able to resist Alkanphel’s mental power the way that Reholt had obviously done. Yes, once he had eliminated Reholt, Alkanphel would begin the boy’s conversion into his loyal Twelfth.

XxXxX

Deep in the lowest level of Mt. Minakami, Dr. Halverson was overseeing the first stages of the child’s processing into a Zoalord. He was not going to ask where the Commander had gotten the Control Zoacrystal that he had dropped off sometime earlier. The fact that the Commander wouldn’t answer the question in the first place notwithstanding, Dr. Halverson didn’t want to risk getting on his bad side the way that Dr. Sanderson had.

That could have painful, and potentially fatal, consequences. The boy’s Zoalord body was now at early Stage One. While he still retained most of his human features, the marks of his new body were becoming more readily apparent. The boy’s skin had changed its hue to more of an extremely pale purple than his normal pale tan. The boy’s hair was still in evidence at the moment, and would remain so for some time, but the marks on his face were now those of a Zoalord.

Dr. Halverson wondered for a moment just what those strange explosions could have been, but then he decided that it wasn’t any of his concern right now. What he had to concern himself with was this boy’s development.

XxXxX

Alkanphel hovered above the hole that Reholt had made in the floor. He could tell that Reholt had not used any of his energy attacks to make it, since there was no residual energy for Alkanphel’s senses to detect. The foolish creature probably though that he would have a better chance against the Supreme Lord of Chronos if he conserved his energy. It was amusing enough that Alkanphel was willing to play along with the idea.

If only to see the expression of utter shock on the face of his former Twelfth Zoalord just before he was killed. Yes, that would make this game even more amusing. Even with as powerful as Reholt was, he still had nothing that could even come close to defeating the Supreme Lord of Chronos.

Smirking, Alkanphel descended through the hole that Reholt had made.

Scanning for Reholt with his senses, Alkanphel found him just as his former Twelfth was about to reach the lowest level of Mt. Minakami. Alkanphel knew that this was where he had hidden the boy Kenji Murakami. It would be useful for him to remember where his new Twelfth Zoalord was waiting. Teleporting down to that level, Alkanphel had a momentary thought to look in and see the development of his new Zoalord for himself.

But then, there was time for things such as that later. Now there was still the matter of Reholt to be dealt with.

XxXxX

They were coming, Masaki could sense it. Gyou, and another Zoalord who was far more powerful than Gyou could ever hope to be. It wasn’t a good situation. _It hasn’t been a good situation for a long time, but now it’s getting worse,_ Masaki admitted to himself. Sho had already suggested that they all take shelter inside the Relic, and Masaki was finding that idea more and more appealing.

"Well, what are the rest of you waiting for?" Masaki demanded. "Let’s get in there before this whole place starts coming down on our heads!"

Without any more words being exchanged, Sumio gathered up all of the others and hustled them out to the main area of the basement. Masaki knew that it was dangerous for all of them to be out there at once, especially now that there were _three_ Zoalords inside the base with them. So Masaki quickly transformed, once he saw that all of the others had made it out of the room.

Masaki knew that this was the last transformation he was going to get out of his body, he knew it and he didn’t care. If he was going to die, then he was going to die fighting against Chronos with everything he had left. Running out into the main area of the basement, Masaki saw that all of the others had made it aboard the Relic by now, but the opening in the ship was still there, probably waiting for him to walk through it.

But that wasn’t going to happen, not when Gyou was this close, and not with that other Zoalord tailing him. Masaki knew that he had about a snowball’s chance in hell against two Zoalords, especially one that was so much more powerful than Gyou. But that didn’t matter to him. When the wall on his right, about two-hundred or so feet above his head, exploded inward Masaki could sense the presence of the one Zoalord who he hated above all others: Gyou.


	46. Desperation

Panting, his left leg nothing but a barely-moving stump from the knee down, Zektor painfully made his way to an as-yet unknown destination. He’d transformed back into his human form, and managed to find a good sturdy support beam that he’d bent into a useable crutch, some time ago. And now, as he struggled to find some place to rest where the ceiling didn’t look like it would fall and bury him if he breathed too hard, Zektor couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down his face.

He’d failed, finally and ultimately, to stop Aptom from killing the last of Team Five. All of his friends were now just parts of that Zoanoid-eating _thing_. Elegen, Zancrus, Gaster and Darzerb. Hell even him if not for his last, desperate gamble. Dr. Balkus would probably congratulate Zektor for his alleged quick-thinking, but the hard truth was that he’d all but panicked when he’d felt Aptom’s cells invading his body.

Shooting his leg off and burrowing through the floor to escape had just been something Zektor had done to give himself a few seconds to think. He’d figured that Aptom would just come right after him again. Running with only one leg, in his heavy Hyper Zoanoid body no less, wasn’t something that Zektor ever wanted to try doing _ever_ again. Moving in his human body was easier, of course, but now he had to deal with the tears.

He just couldn’t seem to stop himself from crying now. Elegen was one of the greatest people – well okay, Hyper Zoanoids – that Zektor had known in all the time that he had worked for Chronos. And the other three had been like brothers to him. Boisterous, gregarious, occasionally annoying brothers. They had been his _family_. The five of them had all been together for longer than Zektor could even remember.

In fact, Zektor was sure that there hadn’t been a time when Team Five hadn’t been a team. If there was, _he_ sure as hell didn’t know about it. Zektor didn’t know what he was going to do now, without his friends by his side or at his back. He did know one thing though: Aptom _wasn’t_ going to get away with this.

XxXxX

Staring through the body-sized hole in the wall that Reholt had made, Alkanphel smiled calmly. The Supreme Zoalord could _feel_ the fear and desperation radiating from the mind of his former Twelfth Zoalord. It was interesting to watch the indecision flicker briefly across Reholt’s face, before his features settled into an indifferent mask. Reholt’s thoughts still gave him away, of course.

"As you can see, Reholt, your struggling is pointless," Alkanphel said calmly. _I might as well make one last attempt, if only to amuse myself._ "No matter what you attempt, you are not going to overcome me. Why not just give up?"

The human phrase ‘the hell I will!’ was what Alkanphel picked up just after he had finished speaking. Even if he had not been able to read the minds of his Zoalords, Alkanphel would have been able to read Reholt’s answer from the expression on his face. He had been right from the outset: the human who had once been known as Reichman Wilhelm was not to be trusted.

However, Reholt _had_ at least been useful for one last thing: he had found his own successor. All that remained for Alkanphel to do now was to dispose of Reholt, and Chronos’ plans could continue apace. Of course, teaching a child the ways of a Zoalord would most likely absorb a great deal of his time from this point on, especially since Alkanphel did not want to chance having another traitor in his organization.

The matter of the boy, though, was a matter for another time.

Now, however… the power that Alkanphel could sense building inside Reholt’s body caused the Supreme Zoalord to focus on him to the exclusion of all else. _What does that arrogant creature think to accomplish? He must know by now that there is no way that he can defeat me. So what… no. He cannot possibly be thinking to use that attack inside this facility. He would expend almost all of his energy, not to mention the damage that it would do to this facility._

Still, it did indeed seem as if Reholt was going to attempt one last attack. Alkanphel just did not exactly know whether to hope that Reholt _was_ foolish enough to attempt that attack, or whether he would come to his senses before that point. Considering that this facility would be all but destroyed if Reholt used the attack that it was seeming more and more likely that he was building to; there was still the fact that Reholt would exhaust himself it he used it.

So at this point, there was somewhat more of an advantage to the situation than a disadvantage. Still, there would be the matter of withstanding Reholt’s attack. Something that Alkanphel was sure that he could do.

"I will warn you one last time, Reholt," Alkanphel said, just to watch Reholt fume. "Do _not_ try my patience."

Alkanphel again watched as differing emotions, mostly anger and hatred this time, flickered across Reholt’s face. Now there was no doubt that Reholt would use his pseudo-black hole, using up most of the energy that Alkanphel had not yet forced him to use when he had been pursuing Reholt through Mt. Minakami. The facility itself would be utterly destroyed, of course. However, that could not be helped, and a new processing facility could be built to serve this area.

_-My Lord! Please escape from this place! Gyou’s next attack is-_

_-I know, Hamilcal.-_

_-You… know?-_

_-Oh yes, I know very well just what our impetuous former Commander is going to attempt. In fact, I look forward to watching him try.-_

_-My Lord?-_

_-Hamilcal, we both know that Reholt does not have any attacks that would be capable of defeating me.-_

_-Yes,-_ Hamilcal’s nervousness still came through clearly.

_-I will perhaps require your assistance, however I am quite certain that I will be able to deal with Reholt as he is now.-_

_-Yes, my Lord.-_

Turning his attention back to Reholt, Alkanphel saw that all of Reholt’s Zoacrystals were glowing. This was a sure sign that Reholt was about to use his pseudo-black hole. _I might as well put on a decent act. No sense in letting the fool creature know anything._ Alkanphel raised his shield, taking care to make it appear as if he was frightened. The motes of strange light that were the visual manifestations of Reholt’s gravity points coalesced into a single mass in from of him.

And Alkanphel waited.


	47. Confrontation

The tremors had started up again, only this time they seemed a lot worse. There were cracks spreading across the ceiling, and it was getting more obvious by the second that the broken pieces of same were going to start coming down in a very short time. Tossing aside the crutch that he’d fashioned for himself, Zektor quickly transformed again. Bracing himself against what he hoped was a sturdy section of the wall, Zektor hobbled over to retrieve it.

Just because he wasn’t going to be moving around for awhile didn’t mean that Zektor was going to lose something that he’d worked so hard to find. He’d still need it, Zektor knew, since there was no way in hell that he was going to try crawling to… wherever the hell it was that he was going now. As the ceiling inevitably started coming down, in big chunks no less, Zektor crouched and held his makeshift crutch close to his chest.

As the floor started to give way underneath him, Zektor started cursing a blue streak. Things just couldn’t seem to stop getting worse. First it was Aptom, then not being able to find Dr. Balkus, then Aptom again, then the shooting his own leg off, and now the building was falling down on his head. _Well, at least things can’t get much worse… Shit, now that I’ve said that I’ve probably ended up jinxing myself,_ Zektor grumbled internally.

XxXxX

They were all gathered together now, at the peak of Mt. Minakami. All nine of the remaining Chronos Overlords.

"Do you sense that?" Rienzi asked, rhetorically since he already knew that his fellow Zoalords would have done so.

"Yes," De Galenos rumbled.

"It would seem that our former colleague has decided to do something rather drastic," Krumeggnik said, his voice rife with suppressed mirth.

"Former?"

"Why yes, dear Caerleon," Krumeggnik said, smiling. "You don’t think that our great leader would keep someone as _obviously_ dangerous as the former Commander around, now do you?"

"Krumeggnik speaks the truth," Amniculus said, before Caerleon could think of anything else to say. "I highly doubt that Gyou will survive to the end of this day."

There was a unanimous agreement from the other eight Overlords on that point.

XxXxX

As he fell, his energy all but gone, Gyou smirked. At least he had seen that look of abject terror on Alkanphel’s face, just before the First Zoalord had been sucked into Gyou’s back hole. Even slamming headfirst into the floor couldn’t wipe the smugly satisfied look off of his face. Chuckling as he pulled himself back to his feet, Gyou saw something else. Something that made him even happier.

Gyou saw Guyver III. He had, of course, been somewhat disappointed that the Third Guyver had not managed to survive his Gravity Wave. He had thought that Makashima and that annoying Murakami would have at least been equal to the challenge. Fukamachi’s Guyver had really only been a consolation prize, since the boy himself was so weak. A prize in itself, yes. But still not the one that Gyou had wanted in the first place.

But now none of that mattered, since Guyver III stood in front of him now. And there, behind him and to his left, stood Murakami. They were both in battle-form, a fact that amused Gyou to no end. If those two little maggots thought that they had any chance of defeating him, Gyou would quickly disabuse them of it.

"So, I see that the two of you did manage to survive," Gyou said, smiling like a hungry shark. "Good. I was so looking forward to killing the two of you face-to-face. Especially you, Makashima. I have a surprise for you."

With that Gyou started concentrating, willing the Remover to come to him. He could almost feel it in his hands. The Remover’s weight, its heft, the subtly changing resonance as it activated. And then he didn’t need to recall the feel of the Remover in his hand anymore, because now it really _was_ in his hand. The Remover fed off his remaining bio-energy as it powered up.

Gyou didn’t mind this so much, since he knew that he would shortly have access to all of the energy that he would ever possibly need.

"So that’s the Remover," Murakami said, sounding halfway interested.

"I should have known you’d know about the Remover, Murakami," Gyou said, his suspicion confirmed. "What with you having that idiot Yamamura to tell you everything."

"My old mentor was _not_ an idiot," Murakami growled, and Gyou knew he had him.


	48. Duel

"He was an idiot, and now he’s dead," Gyou grinned, seeing again the perfect way to get to Murakami. "And that’s your fault too, isn’t it? You couldn’t save your friends, you couldn’t save your son, and you can’t save yourself. How many more transformations can that body of yours withstand, anyway? How long so you have left, do you think? Two weeks? Six days?"

The only thing that Gyou received from Murakami was an inarticulate, hateful growl. Apparently, the man would need a little more prodding before he would be in the proper mood to attack heedlessly. With this in mind, Murakami’s sudden, aggressive charge was all the more surprising for him. Surprising, but not at all disappointing.

Dodging Murakami’s initial charge, Gyou pivoted on one foot and cracked the annoying Proto-Zoalord across the back of the head with the Remover. Murakami stumbled, but still somehow managed to stay on his feet. Turning most of his attention to Makashima, Gyou grabbed Murakami in a chokehold, mirroring Alkanphel’s earlier maneuver against him. Aiming the Remover at Makashima, Gyou fired it before the boy who was the Third Guyver could get out of his way.

Gyou was rewarded with the sight of Makashima’s Guyver coming apart, seemingly into a fluid mass of organic tendrils. He was not so pleased by the fact that Makashima somehow managed to hang onto his Guyver. Gyou _had_ known that the boy had a strong will. Anyone who rose as far in the ranks of Chronos as Makashima had, especially in the utterly ruthless way that the boy had done so, was indeed a person to be reckoned with.

Gyou had just been sure that his own will would prove the superior. But perhaps it was not a matter of will at all… The sudden pain that shot through Gyou’s left arm distracted him from Makashima. Looking back at Murakami, Gyou saw the worthless Proto-Zoalord just starting to remove Gyou’s hand from around his neck. Gyou’s _severed_ hand. Murakami even had the unmitigated gall to smirk at him when the Proto-Zoalord noticed that Gyou’s attention was fixed on him.

Closing the end of the Remover, since he knew that he didn’t have enough bio-energy for another shot at the moment, Gyou made up his mind that he would bash Murakami’s skull in with the device. The Remover’s dull, uniformly white surface could only be improved with some patches of color. And the red would contrast so nicely with the white.

A sudden burst of power, along with a very unnerving feeling of familiarity, caused Gyou to turn his attention away from his currant opponents. _No. No, it cannot be! Nothing could have survived my final attack!_

XxXxX

Alkanphel, after having Hamilcal disperse Reholt’s pseudo-black hole, had tracked the mind of his wayward former Twelfth down to the basement of Relics Point. It had been a somewhat commendable strategy for Reholt to hide the Remover in this area. Disused for the most part, to the point where most would forget that it was even there. Such had been the case for the laboratory where Reholt had placed Kenji Murakami as well.

It was the rather unfortunate downside of building this large a facility. Mt. Minakami had only one-third of the personnel that it could support. There were more being brought in from the surrounding areas yes, but there had not yet been enough to patrol all of the laboratories. There was also the matter of the other things that Alkanphel had gleaned from Reholt’s mind. Such as the fact that not all of the scientists who worked in this facility were truly loyal to Chronos. They put on the façade, yes, but their true loyalties were elsewhere.

_-Hamilcal, I think that it is time we put that contingency plan of ours into play.-_

_-Yes, my Lord.-_

XxXxX

As Balkus’ psychic waves spread throughout the Mt. Minakami base, they sought out Zoanoids who had been designed for far more specific purposes than being cannon fodder. Zoanoids who were stationed in small pockets throughout every one of Chronos’ many bases. One of them existed for every hundred Standard Zoanoids.

They were not Lost Numbers, nor were they Hyper Zoanoids. One thing that all of them had in common was their build: they were lighter, smaller, and faster than even the fastest Hyper Zoanoid. They were also united by purpose: not as frontline soldiers, but as anti-insurrectionists. They were there to make sure that any rebellion within Chronos would be dealt with swiftly and efficiently.

As the psychic waves advanced farther, certain personnel within the base began to show signs of being affected: a computer technician who had been buried beneath a pile of rubble suddenly kicked their way out, diving into a nearby ventilation shaft and quickly disappearing from sight; a secretary leapt to the ceiling and clung to the conduits and piping there, shedding human skin and growing fur, claws and fangs; one of the janitors backed into an empty room and changed into a Zoanoid.

The most obvious thing that all of these newly awakened Zoanoids had in common though was this: they were all female. It had originally been Dr. Balkus’ idea, since who would suspect such an unassuming creature as a woman to turn out to be such a formidable warrior. And Dr. Balkus still considered it one of his more brilliant ideas, even in spite of the rise in status that some females had managed to attain.

After all, females were looked down upon as weak and inferior in enough parts of the world that his female Zoanoids would not be expected until it was too late. At the moment, though, Dr. Balkus had enough to concern himself with. Giving orders to his female Zoanoids to gather and detain the remaining scientists, those who had not already been crushed to death under falling rubble, Dr. Balkus continued to monitor their progress.

It would not do to have Lord Alkanphel’s signals inadvertently causing his female Zoanoids to stray from their assigned tasks.

XxXxX

Sensing that Hamilcal had put their contingency plan into motion, Alkanphel nodded to himself. It _had_ been a rather ingenious idea on Hamilcal’s part; to have a secret army ready and willing to deal with any problems that came up inside Chronos itself. Tuarhan, irreverent as he sometimes was, had called them variously ‘Chronos’ Angels’ and Chronos’ ‘very own KGB’.

Alkanphel had not understood what his Eighth Zoalord had been talking about, and he had never had any real interest in finding out. Tuarhan, while loyal beyond question, was somewhat odd at times.

Looking back down at Reholt, Alkanphel saw that the Proto-Zoalord who had apparently been engaging his former Twelfth in battle had taken advantage of Reholt’s momentary lapse in attentiveness. Alkanphel was rather impressed, since Proto-Zoalords by their very nature were almost instinctively subservient to their Zoalord masters. It took a great deal of willpower for any Zoaform to break away from their natural instinct to obey. This one almost reminded Alkanphel of himself.

Also, it had been rather amusing to watch the Proto-Zoalord grab hold of Reholt’s outstretched right arm and use it to fling the former Twelfth Zoalord over his shoulder. What did the humans call that combat maneuver again? Ah yes, a shoulder-throw. Rather aptly named, Alkanphel thought. Apparently, Reholt was not so amused as Alkanphel himself was about that.

When he saw Reholt begin to swing the Remover around, Alkanphel frowned. The Remover was a delicate interment, it was not to be used as a cudgel. However, when the Proto-Zoalord grabbed the blunt end of the now-closed Remover and used it to add force to his kick, the First Zoalord was rather amused. Alkanphel chuckled softly as he saw the Proto-Zoalord’s foot being slammed into Reholt’s face.


	49. Interest

Subtly Alkanphel reached into the mind of the Proto-Zoalord, wanting to know just how and why this one was able to resist even with Reholt so close. What the Supreme Zoalord found there surprised him, but only for a short time. Hatred, after all, was an easy emotion to understand. Alkanphel knew now that even were Reholt to extend all of his mental powers with the goal of subduing the Proto-Zoalord attacking him, his former Twelfth would stand a chance of failing.

This Proto-Zoalord seemed to despise Reholt as well as Chronos itself, but his hatred of Reholt was what drove him now. Drove him to fight even when he knew, even as Alkanphel himself did now, that he was at the end of his lifespan. Alkanphel was very impressed by the Proto-Zoalord’s tenacity. Perhaps this one could also be used to serve Chronos’ ends.

It would require extensive reprocessing, to be sure, however it would perhaps provide Chronos with an able and determined warrior. Hearing the Proto-Zoalord’s scream, Alkanphel turned his attention back to the battle. Reholt had dealt the Proto-Zoalord a very serious wound. As the Proto-Zoalord grabbed Reholt’s remaining hand, removing it from his own midsection with a rather disgusting wet popping sound, Alkanphel was again impressed with the Proto-Zoalord’s strength.

Even from his position above the battle, Alkanphel could see pieces of the Proto-Zoalord’s entrails hanging out of the wound. It took a great deal of determination to ignore such a wound. And to keep fighting even when he had to know the futility of his situation; Alkanphel was very impressed indeed with this Proto-Zoalord.

His remaining children made another inquiry, asking him if he required their assistance. They had been doing so for some time, and as before Alkanphel gently refused them. He was rather interested to know how the battle between Reholt and the Proto-Zoalord would play out. If Reholt were to sense the presence of the remaining Overlords, it was likely to make him do something rather drastic.

And, even though this Proto-Zoalord was at the end of its life, Alkanphel still wanted to collect its body. Since this one was an experimental prototype it would not have been modified to dispose of itself once its lifesigns had terminated. And there was still a use within Chronos for any Zoaform who had demonstrated this much strength of body and will. Modifications would have to be made, but Alkanphel was certain that between himself and Hamilcal they would be able to remake this one.

Perhaps it would even be more expedient to remake this one into his Twelfth Zoalord. It would take less time than educating an untested child, and there was also the concern that Reholt had done something to ensure that Kenji Murakami would be loyal to him. As soon as he had that thought, however, Alkanphel dismissed it. Reholt was not one to be so cautious. Only the fact that the Mt. Minakami processing facility was understaffed had even allowed him to secret the boy away.

It _was_ an interesting mental problem, though. As a child, Kenji Murakami’s mind would be more open, hence more malleable. It would be very easy for Alkanphel to mold the young human into his ideal Zoalord. However, the Proto-Zoalord fighting Reholt on the ground had fully proved himself to be strong enough to make a formidable Zoalord. There was only the fact that he despised Chronos to deal with.

There were benefits and costs to be considered on either side of the equation. However, Alkanphel had long since realized that this was the way of any worthwhile decision.

Alkanphel’s attention again came back to the battle, in time to watch as Reholt grabbed the Proto-Zoalord’s head in his single remaining hand and smashed the Proto-Zoalord’s forehead firmly into his knee. As Reholt tossed the dying Proto-Zoalord aside, Alkanphel saw the damage that had been done. The Proto-Zoalord’s Control Crystal had been shattered rather completely.

Pity, Alkanphel had hoped that the Proto-Zoalord would have been able to do at least a fair amount more damage than what he had done. Still, removing Reholt’s hand and – as Alkanphel had just noticed – one of his eyes, could not have been easy for such a relatively weak Zoaform. Signaling to his loyal Zoalords, Alkanphel ordered them to attack the Relic.

That was the only real reason that a Proto-Zoalord would have allied himself with a Guyver, after all. To either obtain the Relic for themselves, and in so doing destroy the facility, or to simply destroy Mt. Minakami itself. Either way, the Relic was not going to fall into the hands of this impetuous gnat. A blast of energy from off to his right, a blast that cleaved the black Guyver’s left arm off at the shoulder, alerted Alkanphel to the fact that his Zoalords had arrived.

_-Thank you, Tuarhan, that was most appreciated.-_

_-I do my best, my Lord.-_

Satisfied, Alkanphel lowered himself to the ground so that he could deal with Reholt. Grasping his former Twelfth Zoalord’s neck firmly, Alkanphel slammed Reholt into the far wall of the basement with enough force to cause the reinforced concrete to buckle in some places and shatter in others.

"Were you really so arrogant as to think that you, made as your were from a _single part_ of my body, would ever be able to best me in single combat?" Alkanphel demanded.

"Stranger— things have— happened," Reholt managed to gag out, despite the crushing grip that Alkanphel maintained on his throat.

Disgusted with Reholt’s sheer lack of anything even _resembling_ sense, Alkanphel threw him through the wall. Ripping him out of the body-sized crater in the wall, Alkanphel began to almost casually smash the back of Reholt’s head into the wall repeatedly. Taking hold of the protrusion on the left side of Reholt’s head, Alkanphel tore it off. Reholt screamed, but the heat from Alkanphel’s own body cauterized the wound even before he could start bleeding.

Grabbing Reholt’s face, Alkanphel threw him to the floor. Reholt’s body slammed into the floor of the basement with shattering force. Albeit most of that force damaged the floor rather than Reholt’s own body, but Alkanphel was not so concerned about that. He knew that there would be no way for Chronos to repair the damage that had been done to Mt. Minakami, knew it and did not care. This facility may have been the largest in the area, but it was by no means the only one.

Glancing over at the Relic, Alkanphel was surprised to note that there was a second Guyver standing atop the ancient spacecraft. Hamilcal’s reports had indeed stated that there were two Guyvers in this area, however since only one of them had appeared, Alkanphel had held out at least some hope that Reholt had managed to destroy the second Guyver. Apparently, his former Twelfth Zoalord was even weaker than he had at first suspected.


	50. War

It was mildly aggravating, but there was a consolation in the fact that Alkanphel would not have to deal with the results of his own poor choice for much longer. Smashing his hand into Reholt’s midsection, mirroring Reholt’s attack on the Proto-Zoalord, Alkanphel sent a powerful pulse of energy tearing into Reholt’s entrails. Reholt screamed as most of the organs in that area were immolated.

Wanting to be rid of Reholt completely, Alkanphel ripped the Control Zoacrystal from his former Twelfth’s forehead. Alkanphel watched dispassionately as Reholt screamed and writhed in agony, then turned his attention to the pair of Guyver gnats that had been causing Hamilcal so much trouble. The Guyver that had been standing atop the Relic had come down to the ground by now.

Alkanphel wondered briefly what the second Guyver had been doing inside the Relic, then decided that it was unimportant. The Guyver was out in the open now, an easy target for Alkanphel or any of his other children. It was slightly curious how the teal Guyver’s first concern seemed to be the dead Proto-Zoalord rather than his fellow Guyver. Even when Yentsui attempted to intercept the teal Guyver, the Guyver simply dodged around him.

Alkanphel watched in mild surprise as the teal Guyver, evidently managing to somehow ignore the battle that was going on between the black Guyver and three of his Zoalords, ran to the dead Proto-Zoalord’s side. The teal Guyver actually seemed troubled by the Proto-Zoalord’s death. Alkanphel was somewhat surprised by this. Was it possible that the teal Guyver and the Proto-Zoalord had been companions?

Perhaps there was more merit to the idea of remaking the Proto-Zoalord into his new Twelfth Zoalord than he had at first thought. _One must never underrate the psychological, or that is what Hamilcal has told me,_ Alkanphel mused. But then, there was still the matter of Kenji Murakami. Alkanphel still remembered that he had claimed the boy for his own, and killing him after that would make the entire affair rather pointless.

Still, perhaps there was a use to be found for the boy. But now was not the time to think about that. Now it was time to fight. Tuarhan, taking advantage of the teal Guyver’s distraction, grabbed the Guyver by the arm and flung him into the center of the battle. Since the black Guyver was at the moment facing off against four of his children – Edward having joined the battle while Alkanphel had been thinking – Alkanphel decided that the more pressing issue was dealing with the teal Guyver.

Jearvill, Kaburaal, and Luggnagg had begun to attack the teal Guyver by now; Kaburaal using his telekinetic powers, with Luggnagg and Jearvill using their mastery over their particular element to add to the onslaught. There were now frozen patches over parts of the floor; Jearvill’s work. Luggnagg was also giving a good account of himself; assaulting the teal Guyver with Wind Scythes and Sonic Booms.

Alkanphel was quite impressed with his children, even with Luggnagg. The only one of his children who was not participating in the battle was Yentsui, since his Seventh Zoalord was not well suited for physical combat.

_-Yentsui, go and assist Hamilcal. The others and I will be able to handle these Guyver gnats,-_ Alkanphel ordered.

_-Yes, Lord Alkanphel. I am sorry that I was not able to provide further assistance to you here.-_

_-You will be able to provide assistance to me in another way, Yentsui. Now go.-_

Alkanphel sensed it when Yentsui teleported away, then turned his attention back to the battle with the teal Guyver. The teal Guyver, however, seemed to be distracted by something, something other than the shards of ice, blasts of wind, and pieces of debris that three of his Zoalords were assaulting him with. Ducking a wave of ice from Jearvill, the teal Guyver turned and ran.

"After him!" Jearvill shouted.


	51. Enemy

Agito had reminded him that his only chance of getting all of them out of this place alive was to use the Relic. Sho mentally berated himself for forgetting that, even if it _had_ been in the heat of battle. He could still feel his connection to the Relic, but most of his attention was admittedly taken up by the four Zoalords that were hot on his heels. The one who had been throwing ice at him and freezing the floor out from under him was the worst as far as Sho was concerned.

He still couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that Mr. Murakami was dead, even after having seen and held his body. Sho knew that he would only begin to really feel the pain of that loss when he was out of this battle, but for now it just didn’t seem real to him. Although, there was the fact that Mr. Murakami had probably been reunited with his son, but that didn’t make it any easier for Sho to think about it.

Now wasn’t the time for mourning Mr. Murakami, though, now it was time to make sure that none of his other friends ended up like Mr. Murakami.

_+Agito, are you all right back there?+_

_+I’m fine, Fukamachi. Just get to the Relic. I’ll hold them off.+_

Sho almost looked back to see how Agito was doing, but then thought of Mizuki, Tetsuro and the others. All of them were counting on him to get them safely out of this place. He had been the one to involve Tetsuro and Mizuki in all this fighting, it was only fitting that he be the one to get them out of it. Running at the Guyver’s top speed, Sho made it back to the top of the Relic and willed the ship to open for him.

The ice-throwing Zoalord, who looked like a cross between a humanoid dragon and some kind of ice demon from an anime, was freezing the ground underneath him again. The Relic, though, managed to force open the ice long enough for Sho to jump inside. Closing the ship behind him, and hoping that Agito would be able to get away from the Zoalords who were after him long enough to get safely inside the Relic, Sho headed back to the cockpit.

The Relic obligingly made his trip as short as possible, opening and closing itself with speed that Sho hadn’t even known it was capable of. Sho was thankful for it, though, since he didn’t have the time to waste waiting for the Relic to open and close with its usual slowness. Even the liquid inside the Relic didn’t seem to slow him down as much as it usually did. Bursting out of the liquid once he reached the cockpit, Sho didn’t stop until he had reached the pedestal in the center.

All of the others were secured inside some kind of transport pods that Tetsuro had been the first to notice. Sho saw them out of the corner of his eye as he took his place at the navigation station. Fully connecting himself to the Relic again, Sho found that he felt as if someone with a malicious sense of humor was digging some kind of hot, burning blades into his ear, neck and shoulder.

He saw that the Zoalords who had been chasing after him when he was outside the Relic were now standing on top of it, trying to cut their way through with bursts of concentrated energy. Sho knew, from his connection to the Relic, that the ship’s only real weapons were its passengers. The Relic had been intended as a transport, not a battleship. Disconnecting himself from the Relic enough to be able to function as a separate entity, Sho flew out the top of the spacecraft.

XxXxX

Alkanphel was annoyed. He knew that the emotion served no real purpose, and yet he could not stop himself from feeling that way. He hated Guyvers. It had, after all, been a Guyver that had cost him the favor of the Advents, in addition to almost getting him terminated by them. And now, two of them were making a nuisance of themselves by destroying one of the older and more useful branches of Chronos.

It was aggravating in the extreme. Slicing another piece out of the Relic where the teal Guyver had managed to hide himself, Alkanphel was mildly surprised to find that the Guyver came flying out of the Relic to challenge him and his three children. Surprised, but pleased as Jearvill and Luggnagg started their assault on him again. Kaburaal, having reached the end of his endurance, had retreated back to the Arizona outpost.

Still, even two of his children would be a match for this Guyver. When the black Guyver joined them at the top of the Relic, Alkanphel was surprised that the second Guyver had managed to retain so much of his mobility with his obvious injuries. The Guyver’s right leg showed obvious signs of hasty reattachment, his left arm was a barely-moving stump, and Alkanphel could clearly see the burns and scorch marks from either Edward’s or Tuarhan’s attacks.

_-Focus your attacks on the Guyver gnats, my Zoalords, I will see to the Relic.-_

Alkanphel, sensing the agreement of all of his children, stepped backwards and let them fill the gap where he had stood. Levitating into the air above the Relic, Alkanphel moved out of the way of the battleground atop it. He did not want to chance catching any of his Zoalords in the blast he was about to unleash. Evidently, the teal Guyver noticed the buildup of energy, and just as obviously the black Guyver was too absorbed in his battle to notice.

"No!"

The teal Guyver’s voice sounded oddly young. Possibly this was the reason that he did not seem as able to focus as the black Guyver. In Alkanphel’s experience, the young were more prey to their emotions than those who had matured. Humans, being such a short-lived species, were of course more prone to be rash even when they _had_ matured. But maybe that was the reason that this Guyver-child had at first been more concerned for the dead Proto-Zoalord than for his fellow Guyver.

It was as reasonable a hypothesis as any, and it was also the only one that Alkanphel was going to take the time to make, since he was going to make sure that the Guyver-child and the black Guyver did not make it out of Mt. Minakami alive. Amid the battle, the black Guyver was trying to deal out twice as much damage as what he received from the Zoalords attacking him. At this he was failing utterly, but Alkanphel still had to admire his tenacity.

The black Guyver would have made an admirable Hyper Zoanoid. But now, regretfully, he would have to die along with the Guyver-child. After all, there was nothing to be done for those who fought against Chronos as Guyvers. The buildup of energy from the attack that Alkanphel was about to launch did not stop him from noticing the Guyver-child flying up toward him.

The Guyver-child’s intent was clear to Alkanphel: to attack him and prevent him from destroying the Relic. Feeling no need to waste his time battling against the Guyver-child, Alkanphel teleported to the other side of the Relic and continued preparing his attack. The Guyver-child followed him to the other side, and Alkanphel started to wonder just why none of his Zoalords were attempting to stop the Guyver.

Looking back down at the Relic, Alkanphel saw that the black Guyver was somehow managing to keep all of his remaining Zoalords occupied. Alkanphel found himself somewhat impressed by the black Guyver again. The battle was of course not going well for the black Guyver, but the fact that he was even attempting to stand against six Zoalords was at least worthy of some recognition.

The Guyver-child abruptly darted downward, into an opening in the Relic that had not existed before. Alkanphel realized then that the Guyver-child was linked to the Relic. It was not such an odd thing to think about, since the Advents themselves could link mentally with their spacecraft to operate them. At least now it made some sense why the black Guyver would protect such an ineffective warrior as the Guyver-child.

However, perhaps attacking the black Guyver would once again cause the Guyver-child to leave his assigned task and attempt to rescue his comrade. It had, after all, worked once before.


	52. Huntress

Back inside the Relic again, Sho dropped through a few levels and straight into the cockpit. Fully linking himself to the Relic’s computer once more, Sho saw Agito and the six Zoalords fighting on top of the ship. Agito was getting the worst of it, with each Zoalord working in concert with the others to inflict the maximum amount of damage. For a full two minutes, Sho wasn’t able to focus on what he was doing.

Watching Agito get torn apart like that, even if the two of them had never been the closest of friends, wasn’t easy. In the end, though, Sho had to concede that the best way to help Agito was to fly the Relic out of Mt. Minakami. Destroying this base, besides being a powerful blow against Chronos, would also give at least some meaning to Mr. Murakami’s death. _This is what he would have wanted me to do. This is for Mr. Murakami, and for father, and for all the other people that Chronos has hurt._

With that thought to give him purpose, Sho concentrated. _Launch, Relic. Launch now!_ Sho could feel it when the Relic’s massive engines activated, their thrumming probably audible throughout the remains of the base. For a moment, Sho felt regret for all of the people that would be killed when Mt. Minakami inevitably collapsed, since some of them probably had lives outside of Chronos.

Prof. Odagiri had told him about the way that all of the scientists who worked for Chronos were infected with a virus that boosted their mental abilities while at the same time slowly killing them. Agito and Mr. Murakami hadn’t seemed at all surprised by that, but he, Mizuki and Tetsuro had been shocked and appalled by it. Mr. Murakami had said that something like that was typical for Chronos. Sho had seen by Mr. Murakami’s expression that it was something that the older man didn’t want to talk about.

Of course, now they would never get the chance to talk about anything ever again. That thought sobered Sho, and also made him realize that no matter what else was happening right now, he had to keep the rest of his friends safe. Right now, that meant flying the Relic up and out of Mt. Minakami, no matter what else happened.

XxXxX

The shaking and rumbling had gotten steadily worse as Sharru made her way toward the last of the processing laboratories. Dr. Balkus had given her specific orders to gather any of the remaining scientists, those that had managed to somehow survive the falling debris, and bring them out to be interrogated. Sharru didn’t know just where she was meant to bring them, but she knew that Dr. Balkus would tell her when the time came.

Walking into the laboratory, Sharru took half a second to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Then she was moving again, though the floor underneath her and the ceiling over her head both looked rather more unsteady than she would have personally preferred. But then, this was what she had been ordered to do, and there hadn’t been many other options at the time.

As Sharru made her way deeper into the laboratory, she had to walk around a large pile of rubble from where the ceiling had fallen down. She had been running across a fair number of them since she had started searching this level, but so far she hadn’t found any scientists. Either living or dead. The smell of fresh blood drew her attention, and Sharru turned and hurried into the outer part of the laboratory.

She found her first scientist there, dead after having been impaled by a falling support beam. The guy hadn’t had a very easy time of it, Sharru could tell, since the beam had pierced his stomach. There was a look of pure agony frozen on his features, and Sharru remembered from her training that gut-wounds were among the most painful ways that a human could die.

The sound of Plexiglas cracking, coming from behind her, drew Sharru’s attention away from the dead scientist on the floor. Turning quickly to look at the processing-tank behind her, Sharru saw to her surprise that this particular processing-tank was full. And with a Proto-Zoalord no less. Seeing that, Sharru’s respect for the dead scientist on the floor went up by several notches.

Apparently he’d been very dedicated to his job, and not just in a bad place at a very bad time. That kind of dedication to one’s work was the kind of thing that would have probably gotten him noticed by the higher powers, which was probably why the guy had been chosen to develop this Proto-Zoalord in the first place.

_Dr. Balkus, I found something you might be interested in._

_-Let me see it, then.-_

Sharru’s eyes fluttered, as Dr. Balkus took control of her senses. As she stepped forward to observe the Proto-Zoalord more closely, Sharru could feel Dr. Balkus getting angrier and angrier. She wasn’t quite sure why, since the old Zoalord was shielding his thoughts from her. Most Zoalords did that, so Sharru wasn’t going to call him on it. Another mental presence, this one less familiar to her, intruded on Sharru’s mind then.

This one seemed more interested by the Proto-Zoalord than angry, and for the life of her Sharru couldn’t figure out why Dr. Balkus had been so pissed off by the sight of him. But then, trying to figure out the motivations of her superiors was something that Sharru had given up as hopeless a long time ago. They were a bunch of inscrutable bastards sometimes, all of them.

Even that Galenos guy, who did at least treat his people as something other than brainless cannon fodder. Even though all of the Zoalords tended to treat Sharru and her fellow Zoanoids better than they did the guys. Still, having two Zoalords cohabiting her mind was a new and not all that reassuring experience for Sharru. Finally, she felt Dr. Balkus’ mind retreating from contact with her own.

Sharru wondered for a minute if she was ever going to find out just what the two Zoalords’ deal was, but she knew that she probably wouldn’t. They were such inscrutable bastards.

_-Wait here, Sharru. I will send help to retrieve what you have done so well to find.-_

_What do you want me to do in the meantime?_

_-Retrieve our young Proto-Zoalord from the processing-tank. He will be in no danger if he is exposed to the open air for a short time, and I would rather not have you having to dig him out from under the debris that will inevitably start falling from the ceiling.-_

_Whatever you say, sir. I’ll get right on it._

_-See that you do.-_


	53. Aftermath

The telepathic contact from the other Zoalord cut off, leaving Sharru once again alone inside her own head. That was a welcome change after having so many people in her mind with her. Walking over to the cracked processing-tank that held the Proto-Zoalord in his stasis sleep, Sharru gave it one good, hard punch. The weakened Plexiglas splintered around her fist, and the fluid pressure inside the tank did the rest.

Well mostly, since Sharru herself still had to rip open the bottom of the processing-tank to be able to get the unconscious Proto-Zoalord out. But all of that was easy, and after Sharru had pulled off all of the monitoring devices from the Proto-Zoalord’s body, she was left to sit with him and wait for the other guys that that other Zoalord had said he would be sending. Cradling the Proto-Zoalord in her arms, Sharru wondered just who he was.

Had he worked for Chronos before getting slated for processing as a Proto-Zoalord? And had he really known just what he was getting into when he’d volunteered for the procedure? It was interesting to think about those kinds of things, despite the fact that Sharru knew she wouldn’t be getting any answers to her questions. The Proto-Zoalord was kind of nice to look at, even in spite of being caught at the stage where he looked like some bizarre cross between a Proto-Zoalord and a human.

He’d look a lot better when he could transform back into his human form, Sharru knew. His long, bluish-black hair hadn’t yet been lost to the transformation, and was now soaked through from the processing fluid. The rest of his body wasn’t much better off, and it was odd for Sharru to be holding someone who so obviously still belonged in a processing-tank. When the small army of Standard Zoanoids came up to her, Sharru was grateful to see them.

"Well, at least we don’t have to ask if that’s the guy," a Gregole quipped.

"Yeah, I think it’s pretty obvious," Sharru said, smirking. "You guys need my help for anything else?"

"No, you go on, shark-girl. We can handle things here," one of the Ramochis said.

"Good, cause I’ve still got rounds to make," she said, laying the Proto-Zoalord back on the floor and standing up.

"Go on and finish your rounds, shark-girl. We can take care of things here."

XxXxX

Gregole watched the sharkelike female Zoanoid leave, then turned his attention back to the Proto-Zoalord she had left laying on the floor. If he’d had to hazard a guess, Gregole would have said that this guy was about midway through Stage One.

"Let’s get him off this unstable floor before it starts collapsing right out from under us," Gregole ordered the rest of his unit.

The other Zoanoids nodded, and quickly went to work moving the Proto-Zoalord. The seven of them had been able to retrieve one of the many transport containers from the storage area. This one was specifically intended to transport Zoanoids from one branch of Chronos to another. Old man Balkus had at first thought the indignity of having a Proto-Zoalord transported in a container that had originally been meant for a Zoanoid was too much.

Gregole had almost given into a rather strong urge to laugh. It had just been so damned ridiculous that old Balkus would think that the so-called dignity of an unconscious Proto-Zoalord was more important than his survival. Ridiculous, and completely in character for the old crank. Luckily Alkanphel, who seemed to have a lot of sway over old Balkus for a Zoalord Gregole had never met before, had managed to talk him down.

Picking up the halfway-transformed Proto-Zoalord, Gregole carried him over to the holding tank. The tank itself was filled with something that looked a lot like processing fluid. The guy named Alkanphel had said it was stasis fluid, and Gregole figured that he probably knew what he was talking about. Alkanphel had been the one who’d told them where to find the transport container, after all.

Setting the Proto-Zoalord down inside the tank-full of stasis fluid, Gregole was helped by a pair of Ramochis to close the container and lock it up tight. Without a word exchanged, six of the seven Zoanoids took hold of the handles on both sides of the transport container, and Gregole led them out of the collapsing remains of the laboratory.

XxXxX

The battle was over, with no losses suffered by any of his children. The Guyver-child had somehow managed to engage the Relic’s hyperspace capability even as the Relic had disintegrated with him inside it, removing the black Guyver from battle and teleporting him somewhere. Alkanphel was not entirely certain just how the boy had managed it, but such things were not his main concern at the moment. He was pleased, however, that the boy Kenji Murakami had been recovered.

It would have been irritating on a somewhat personal level to have the child die merely because the Mt. Minakami facility was collapsing. Striding calmly over to the dead Proto-Zoalord, Alkanphel swept up Reholt’s Control Zoacrystal as he passed it. He had dropped it sometime during the battle. Reholt himself was gone, most likely dead after having fallen into the magma chamber that had been opened by one of Tuarhan’s attacks.


	54. Rebirth

Alkanphel was glad to be rid of the aggravating, arrogant former Zoalord. Signaling mentally to Hamilcal, Alkanphel was mildly surprised to see Yentsui teleporting in beside his second Zoalord. Yentsui was in human form, and Alkanphel remembered that for some reason Yentsui preferred to be called Rienzi in that form.

"Hamilcal, thank you for coming so promptly," Alkanphel acknowledged his Second. "Why have you come though, Rienzi?"

"I came to assist you, my Lord Alkanphel. Since I was not able to aid you in battle, I thought that I could assist with this. However, if you feel that my assistance would be superfluous in this endeavor, I will leave."

"No Rienzi, you may aid me in this," Alkanphel said calmly, knowing that the task would go much more swiftly with the three of them. "Come, help me with this one."

Alkanphel took hold of the Proto-Zoalord’s head and shoulder area, Yentsui took his arms, and Hamilcal took the Proto-Zoalord’s feet.

_-Where shall we take him, Lord Alkanphel?- _Yentsui asked.

_-We will take this one to the Dead Sea facility, and the other one as well. There are enough resources at that facility to develop them both into what they were meant to be.-_

_-There is another Proto-Zoalord here, my Lord?-_

_-Yes. Developed, in fact, by our former Twelfth.-_

_-Gyou developed a Proto-Zoalord?-_ Yentsui seemed surprised by that.

_-Oh, yes,- _Alkanphel himself, though, was just amused._ -Reholt thought that he would somehow be able to develop his very own loyal Zoalord without my knowledge.-_

The three Zoalords and their cargo teleported to Chronos’ base in the Mediterranean, and Alkanphel released the dead Proto-Zoalord into the care of Hamilcal and Yentsui. Now that the dead Proto-Zoalord had been dealt with, at least for the moment, there was the matter of Kenji Murakami to be dealt with. Teleporting in front of the group of Zoanoids that were transporting the boy, Alkanphel placed a hand on the container and teleported all of them back to the Dead Sea facility.

Giving the Zoanoids orders to bring the young Zoalord-to-be into Hamilcal’s private laboratory, Alkanphel considered whether there were any other pressing matters that required his attention. Since the Relic had been all but destroyed, Chronos no longer had a way to escape this planet as Alkanphel had intended. Perhaps there was a way to rectify that situation, however.

Teleporting back to the remains of Mt. Minakami a last time, Alkanphel retrieved a small piece of the Relic. The Relic itself had been a living vessel, so there might still be the chance of replicating it with Chronos’ superior technology. Considering the small fragment of the Relic that he held, Alkanphel teleported back to the Dead Sea facility. After a short mental exchange with Hamilcal, Alkanphel teleported to the development division.

XxXxX

Laying the fragment of the Relic on a pedestal, Alkanphel then teleported to Hamilcal’s private laboratory. The two Proto-Zoalords were waiting for him there, as was Hamilcal. The dead Proto-Zoalord was lying on a dissection table, and Kenji Murakami was back inside a processing-tank where he belonged. Alkanphel was interested to note that the boy’s body somewhat resembled that of the dead Proto-Zoalord.

It had perhaps been intentional on Reholt’s part, Alkanphel was not sure. Nor did he care all that much at the moment. What the Supreme Zoalord was most interested in was the development of his new Twelfth Zoalord. The matter of Kenji Murakami could be dealt with in more detail later. With a mental signal to Hamilcal, their work on the dead Proto-Zoalord began.

XxXxX

After five straight days of work it was finally done, the Proto-Zoalord once named Masaki Murakami was now his new Twelfth Zoalord: Imakarum Mirabilis. Alkanphel was at the moment still sifting through the man’s memories. The most prominent in the Supreme Zoalord’s mind, however, were those that dealt with the boy Kenji Murakami. He would not have guessed that the boy was related to the former Proto-Zoalord.

Much less that the boy was the now-Mirabilis’ offspring. Now at least he knew what had provided a great deal of motivation for Imakarum to attack Reholt when the man had known that he was dying. If one of _his_ children had been taken from him by some force, as unlikely as that scenario was, Alkanphel knew that there were very few things that would be able to stop him from rescuing them.

Teleporting back into Hamilcal’s private laboratory, Alkanphel laid a hand on the processing-tank that held Imakarum’s son. When Imakarum had seen his son’s Zoalord body, the first thing he had done was to say that it was the wrong color. Only Alkanphel himself had known what Imakarum had meant by saying that. After all, the boy’s favorite color was blue, not white or purple.

Alkanphel had told Imakarum that he would see to correcting the mistake, and his new Twelfth Zoalord had thanked him and then teleported back to his quarters to rest. Alkanphel had indeed seen to the problem of the boy’s coloring. The young Zoalord was now a pale sky-blue, and a dark royal blue on the parts that were not covered by his over-armor. Alkanphel looked over the thirty Zoacrystals that pulsed inside the boy’s body.

He had to give Reholt credit for one thing, at least: the man was very thorough. The boy would make a very strong Zoalord, once his development was complete of course. The new Control Zoacrystal was also integrating well with the boy’s physiology. Alkanphel was satisfied.


	55. Judas

Imakarum stood before the phone, contemplating his next action. He knew what he should do now, what his loyalty to Lord Alkanphel dictated, but there was still a part of him that despised the thought. These humans who fought against Chronos were not to be dismissed so easily. They were well equipped, and well hidden. Clever and resourceful, the ACF was not to be taken lightly.

Picking up the phone, Imakarum dialed a number that he had been given in another life.

"How did you get this number?" a male voice that Imakarum did not recognize demanded.

"Put me through to Atkins," Imakarum said calmly. "Tell him that M is calling. He’ll know what I’m talking about."

"I’ll give him the message," the man said, still sounding suspicious.

There was a solid seven minutes of dead space, before another man came on the line.

"Murakami?" Atkins asked, and Imakarum shuddered slightly. The man sounded happy to hear from him. "We haven’t heard from you in ages. Did you go underground?"

"Something like that," Imakarum said.

"Have there been any new developments at Chronos?"

"Not as far as I know," Imakarum lied. "Have there been any new developments with your organization?"

"We’re still working to build up our numbers," Atkins said, piquing Imakarum’s interest.

"Your main base is still in Utah, right?" Imakarum asked, wanting to see what Atkins would make of that question.

"It is, but we’re working to change that."

"Where are you planning to move to?" Imakarum asked warily.

"You understand that that’s not something that I’m free to discuss. Even with you, Murakami."

"I understand," Imakarum said, cursing Atkins mentally. "Is there anything that you _can_ tell me?"

"We’re close to getting our hunting license," Atkins said, and Imakarum frowned. "Then the real operations can begin."

"How’s your R and D?"

"Going well," Atkins seemed pleased, and Imakarum knew that anything that made the man this happy was not something that boded well for Chronos. "We’ve whipped up a few new things since you last came into contact with us. Nothing I can tell you about, but suffice it to say that Chronos won’t know what hit them when we’re up and running."

_From bad to worse, then. Lord Alkanphel is not going to be pleased about any of this._ Imakarum sighed inaudibly, knowing that he couldn’t risk Atkins becoming suspicious. He had to cut the call short, despite the fact that what he really wanted to do was to find out everything that Atkins had been doing so that Chronos would be able to counter him and his ACF.

"I have to go now," Imakarum said. "I’m sure you understand."

"I do. But keep in contact, Murakami. You’re an important part of this resistance effort, too."

"I know," Imakarum said.

Imakarum hung up the phone, mentally requesting an audience with Lord Alkanphel so that he could explain the threat that the ACF posed to Chronos’ plans.

XxXxX

Colonel Aiden Atkins, nominal leader of the newly-christened ACTF, hung up the phone. It had been good to hear from Murakami again. The man was a fellow fighter against Chronos, and while the two of them weren’t really what could be considered close friends, it was still good to know that Murakami was still out there causing trouble for Chronos. The man was an asset that couldn’t be underestimated. Atkins wasn’t about to make the mistake of doing that, either.

Lieutenant Adrian Porter, who worked for the ACTF’s R&amp;D Division, had just come in.

"Did I come at a bad time, sir?"

"No, Porter. I was just finishing up a call. What do you have for me?"

"I just came to inform you that five of the new Alpha units are ready for your inspection, sir," Porter said, looking over one of the files she held. "The other five are scheduled to be completed in four hours."

"Thank you for informing me, Porter," Atkins said, taking the file that she held out to him. "I’ll be right down."

"I hope you like what you see, sir," she said, smiling a little. "Our tech guys busted their asses trying to get these things just right. One of the Alphas even managed to take off Barker’s finger."

"Well if they managed to do that, then I’m sure that I’ll like what I see," Atkins grinned easily. "How’s Barker doing now?"

"His finger grew back, and now he’s in the cafeteria having some grub."

"Good. I’ll meet you at R and D."

"I’ll see you there, sir," Porter saluted just before she turned and walked away.


	56. Intelligence

All of the Twelve Zoalords were gathered together at the Arizona base, inside the Celestial Hall. Imakarum had just finished telling them everything about the ACF; all that he had known about the organization that had opposed Chronos and helped to shelter Masaki Murakami and his son. Lord Alkanphel looked only mildly interested, Lords Shin, Edward, Yentsui and Fried’rich looked more interested, Lords Waferdanos, Tuarhan and Hamilcal seemed somehow amused, and Lords Jearvill, Kaburaal and Luggnagg looked outright derisive.

"Come now, Mirabilis," Lord Jearvill was the first to speak after Imakarum had finished. "You don’t honestly believe that a group made up merely of_ humans _can hope to stand against the might of Chronos, do you?"

"Those of the Anti Chronos Front are not like any humans that you have encountered before, Lord Jearvill," Imakarum said calmly.

"Of course they aren’t," Lord Jearvill said, sarcasm suffusing his tone.

"That will be enough," Lord Alkanphel said flatly. "There is a chance that this organization could prove to be a threat to our plans."

"We should simply initiate X-Day now. Wipe this ‘Anti Chronos Front’ out in one fell stroke," Lord Waferdanos suggested.

"No. As of right now there are too many humans who would join up with the Anti Chronos Front. To protect what they feel are their basic rights and freedoms," Imakarum countered. "If we were to strike now, the Anti Chronos Front’s ranks would swell. They would become far more of a threat than they are to us now."

"Imakarum is right," Lord Alkanphel said. "Through him, I also know of this Anti Chronos Front and its goals. These humans are not to be underestimated, Jearvill. They will fight with all their strength against us. But more than that, they will use every bit of cunning they posses. I know of the weapon that they designed, and if they have had time to develop any more like it, they will pose more of a threat to our Zoanoid soldiers than any human has before. A threat that is at least comparable to that posed by a Guyver."

"Yes, that ‘Zoanoid Buster Custom’ that they created," Lord Hamilcal said, sounding as if he disapproved. "Rather an inelegant name for the device. And this company of theirs, Max Factory. I find all of this highly troubling."

"Yes," Lord Fried’rich agreed. "I also find it troubling that this Anti Chronos Front has managed to conceal themselves from us for so long. We should have been at the very least aware of them before they were able to become this much of a threat to us. How did our operatives manage to overlook something this important?"

"I would also like to find that out, Fried’rich," Alkanphel stated. "However, there is also the matter of the interrogations to be conducted at Cloud Tower. There will need to be one of us overseeing it."

"I will see to that, Lord Alkanphel."

"Thank you, Hamilcal," Alkanphel said gratefully. "Imakarum, will you see that the matter of the Anti Chronos Front is investigated thoroughly?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Very well then," Alkanphel said, satisfied. "The rest of you are to report back to your assignments. I will of course contact you if there are any new developments."

"Yes, Lord Alkanphel," the remaining nine Zoalords said, teleporting out en mass.

Imakarum bowed to Alkanphel, before he too teleported out of the Celestial Hall. Hamilcal, however, was still standing in the Hall itself. He was staring at the place where Imakarum had once been standing and there was an uneasy expression on his face. Finally, Hamilcal spoke.

"Are you sure that we can still trust him, my Lord?"

"Do you doubt your own work that much, Hamilcal?" Alkanphel asked.

"No. it is not that, my Lord," Hamilcal still look uncertain. "But Imakarum has admitted that he once worked with these humans. This Anti Chronos Front."

"You feel that this will be a temptation for our new Twelfth," Alkanphel said calmly.

"Yes, my Lord. That is what concerns me."

"There is no need for you to be concerned over that, Hamilcal. Imakarum knows who he is loyal to. His life as Masaki Murakami ended at Mt. Minakami, and Imakarum has accepted this as fact."

Hamilcal nodded, but Alkanphel could feel that his Second Zoalord was still uneasy.

"Be at peace, Hamilcal. There is nothing for you to worry about."


	57. Child

Hamilcal teleported out, and Alkanphel could sense that his Second Zoalord was still uneasy. Hamilcal would learn to trust in his own work soon enough. The Proto-Zoalord named Masaki Murakami was dead. The only small remnant of that man that remained was the part of him that cared for his son, Alkanphel had seen to that. The boy Kenji would need a new name as well, since he was also no longer what he had been before.

Kenji Murakami was a human child, and Imakarum’s son was no longer any such thing. Teleporting back into Hamilcal’s laboratory, Alkanphel once again considered what he would rename the child. Looking through Imakarum’s memories of his life as Masaki Murakami, Alkanphel found a thought that the man had often had about his son. Murakami had often thought of the boy as his last link to his wife.

A living memory, as Masaki had put it. He had never said those words aloud, but they were often in his mind when he thought of the boy. And even more so now. When Imakarum had seen his son’s face for the first time, Alkanphel had clearly seen the thought that he had had. The boy’s face had reminded him so much of the woman’s that Alkanphel had almost had to telepathically pull his Twelfth Zoalord back.

A memory. It was an interesting thing to consider. As he thought more about the matter, Alkanphel decided on the name that the boy would have from this day forward.

"You are no longer what you were, child. You are the son of Imakarum Mirabilis. You are Ingriam," Alkanphel pronounced, gifting the young Zoalord with his new name.

Young Ingriam did not have a purpose within Chronos as yet, but as a Zoalord he would still have a use. He was still only a child, but Alkanphel had seen from Imakarum’s memories that his son was not one to be underestimated. The human Kenji Murakami had been clever, resourceful, adaptable, and above all things loyal to his father. There would still have to be some modifications to the boy’s mind of course, since he had been raised by Masaki Murakami.

Alkanphel decided that there was no reason to delay such things. Pulling Ingriam’s mind into his own, Alkanphel began to make the changes that he desired. The boy’s loyalty to his father would be preserved of course, but added to that would be loyalty to Chronos and to Alkanphel himself. Ingriam’s will was preserved, as well as all of the desirable traits that Kenji Murakami had developed over the course of his short life.

Once he was finished, Alkanphel teleported to Cloud Tower to oversee Hamilcal’s interrogation.


	58. Friends

As the screaming got louder, former Chronos scientist Howard Jackson laced his fingers together to stop them from shaking. This was the third time that the Lost Unit processing had failed. The nosebleeds had already started for him, and he could see that Hayami had only a few days before they started up for him as well.

"More problems," Hayami muttered sadly as he walked back into the room.

"Yeah, so I heard," Howard said. "We don’t have much time left ourselves."

"Here," Hayami said, wiping away a stream of blood dripping from Howard’s nose.

"Thanks for that. I don’t think I’m going to last much longer, either," Howard said, as Hayami handed him the tissue.

"Don’t say things like that. We’ve lost too many friends already. After we managed to get away from those Zoanoid patrols, you’d think something like this would be at least relatively easy."

Howard chuckled with mordant good humor. "Yeah, you’d think it would be. But this process wasn’t _intended_ to produce Lost Units at all. We’re trying to deliberately screw with the Zoafication process, that’s going to have serious consequences."

"I know that," Hayami said, running a hand through his already disordered hair. "I think we all know that by now. At least, those of us that are still alive. Speaking of which, I think we should go take care of Arnold now."

"Yeah," Howard muttered sadly.

The screams had stopped by now, so Howard and Hayami both knew that Arnold Hanson was dead. Walking back into the room with the processing-tank, the two former Chronos scientists looked at their friend and colleague for the last time. He looked now like some kind of hideous, mutated freak. Caught between his human form and the Zoaform that had ended up being his death sentence.

The processing-tank had already been drained, and the three remaining former Chronos scientists had all gathered around it by that time. There were no words exchanged between them, since there was nothing that they could really say anymore. Their group had consisted of twelve people at first, then Sumio had vanished with the Relic. Donald Akers and Jerome Baker had gotten separated when they had all run from the Zoanoid patrols.

Those two had probably ended up killing themselves rather than being recaptured by Chronos. One of the only female scientists in their group, Hitomi Mimori, had sacrificed her own life to distract another of the Zoanoid patrols that they had ran right into. Two more of their number, Jhon Willams and Kakashi Hitomori, had been buried in the rubble of Mt. Minakami. They had marked a grave for all of the people who hadn’t made it out of Chronos, all of those who hadn’t been able to regain their freedom in any meaningful way.

There were no bodies in those first five graves, of course. But the two next to them held the deformed, mutated corpses of Emile Saavedra and Lorne Stevens. The first victims of the failed Lost Unit processing. As Danielle Sorenson threw a sheet over Arnold’s body and wrapped him up, the two men helped her to pick up Arnold’s body and carry it. All three of them were wondering just which one of them would be next.

There were six shovels leaning against the wall, because there had once been six people there to use them. Now as Hayami, Danielle, and Howard each took a shovel for their own use, they tried hard to ignore the fact that there were three more than they needed. As the three of them carried their burden out into Sumio’s spacious back yard, they headed almost instinctively for the makeshift plot where a few of their group was buried.

At the end of the row of grave markers, there was a small pile of unmarked wood slats. The slats had been carefully carved into grave markers by Danielle. She had also been the one to carve the names of each of their fallen into the markers, since woodworking had been one of her passions before she had come into the employ of Chronos. Hayami and Howard wondered what they were going to do for her if she was the one to die next.

As their three shovels broke ground for the eighth grave, the three former Chronos employees looked down at the cold earth they were overturning. No words of false comfort were spoken, each of the people standing at the gravesite was a realist and so wouldn’t have appreciated being talked to that way. They all knew that they were dying; knew that their only chance of survival was a slim one.

They had known from the beginning that they were playing with fire, and now all that they wondered was just who was going to be the next to burn. Once the grave was deep enough, the three scientists laid their dead friend in it almost reverently. Then, once that was done, each of them tossed a small handful of dirt into the freshly dug grave. Then, standing back up, they began to fill it again.

After the grave had been filled in, the two men stepped back to let Danielle work. Removing a small carving knife from her pocket, Danielle set down to do her last job. All that she carved into the marker that she held was the most basic of information: name and age. Their eulogies could go on for pages, but there wasn’t any real way for such complicated people to be summed up by the simple epitaphs that were normally seen on headstones.

Not for the people who knew them, anyway.

Once she was done with that, Danielle laid the marker on the gravesite and rose to stand next to her colleagues. One by one, as a way of remembrance, the three remaining scientists read the names of their fallen to themselves: Donald Akers, 23; Jerome Baker, 25; Hitomi Mimori, 25; Jhon Willams, 24; Kakashi Hitomori, 26; Emile Saavedra, 21; Lorne Stevens, 27; and now Arnold Hanson, 25.

There were three unmarked wooden slats left in the pile, three more that they each hoped would never have to be put to use. But even then, each of them knew the risks of what they were attempting to do.

"You still remember that promise we all made to each other, right?" Danielle wondered aloud.

"Yeah, Danni. We remember," Howard said.

"We remember every time," Hayami muttered sadly.

"Sorry. It’s just…"

"We know," Hayami said. "It gets harder the more you have to deal with it. You end up needing at least _something _to hold on to."

"Yeah," Danielle muttered, staring down at the grave again. "Thanks for understanding, Toshi-kun."

Hayami nodded solemnly, remembering even as Danielle did the promise that they had all made to each other. Since it was far too dangerous for a bunch of wanted fugitives like them to try and make contact with any of their family, the six escapees had made a promise that those who managed to survive the Lost Number processing would put flowers on the graves of the ones who had died.

It had been something of a consolation for them, to know that they would at least be remembered somehow. But so far, not one person had managed to survive and become a Lost Number. As the three survivors took one last look at the graves in front of them, Danielle couldn’t help but recall the lines of an old poem she had learned in school a long time ago, before she had even heard of Chronos.

She didn’t want to recite it aloud, though. The fact that it was incredibly depressing notwithstanding, there was also the fact that there was an almost reverent silence that hung over this place, one that Danielle didn’t want to intrude on. Still, ‘Flanders’ fields’ did seem a very appropriate poem for a time like this. They might not have been the ones fighting on the front lines, and their may not have been regular guns, but that didn’t change the fact that they were still in a war.

When Howard started to sing, a mournful but unrecognizable song, Danielle paused to listen. It didn’t seem all that appropriate from where she was standing, but when Howard came to the line ‘find the one song before the virus takes hold’, Danielle started to listen more closely.

"What was that from?" Hayami asked.

"It was a song I heard a while ago," Howard smiled secretively, as if he was about to impart a great and terrible secret to them. "I went to see a musical on Chronos’ time this once. It depressed the hell out of me, and I don’t remember the name right now, but a few of the songs stuck with me. This one just seemed like it fit."

"Could you sing it again?" Danielle asked.

"Sure," Howard said.

When he started to sing, Danielle was quick to join in. Hayami just listened as their voices blended together. He hadn’t ever been interested enough to find out just what his colleagues would sound like if they tried to sing. Danielle’s alto, though, did make a nice counterpoint to Howard’s baritone. Once they were finished, Hayami smiled at them and the three of them walked back into the laboratory set up inside Sumio’s house.


	59. Comrades

Sean Barker, leaning back in his chair and digesting his latest meal, smiled. Atkins had requested a trial by combat for the five Alpha Battlesuits that had been completed. This time Sean had ended up losing his entire right hand. He was glad however, not about the hand itself, but about the fact that the designs had been realized so well. If the Alphas could keep up with a Guyver like him, then they would have a much better chance against the Zoanoids that they were intended to fight.

"So, how’s my knight in shining armor doing?" Cori asked, rubbing his shoulders as she came up behind him.

"Well, I have all my limbs in place again," Sean said, turning his head and grinning at her. "And I have food in my stomach again. And I have you," here he paused to kiss Cori. "And nothing more than a combat drill has happened today. So, all in all, I think I feel pretty damn good."

That, of course, was when the proximity alarms all went off at once.

"What’s going on out there?" Cori wondered aloud.

"It’s probably just another combat drill for the Alpha group," Sean said, leaning back in his chair as Cori ran her fingers through his hair.

When the word Zoanoid came over the loudspeakers, though, Sean was instantly on his feet. The announcement was repeated for the benefit or the few people who hadn’t caught it the first time, but by the time it was half done Sean was already moving. The corridors of the ACTF’s main compound were filled with soldiers, all moving with grim purpose. Each of them knew their job and was prepared to carry it out.

As well, each of them knew what a Zoanoid attack entailed. The ones who had not been in direct combat with a Zoanoid before had been thoroughly briefed by Atkins and Sean. Now, as he ran with them to their inevitable destination, Sean mentally geared himself up for what he was going to be facing. Zoanoids were strong, and they were uniformly ugly, but none of them were very smart.

Five of the soldiers who had been running with the group broke off, heading for the hangar bay where the five combat-ready Alpha types were stored. As the remaining soldiers passed the racks of specially designed weapons, every one with the obvious exception of Sean picked one up and slung it over their shoulder. These were the troops that would be fighting on the front lines, as opposed to the others who would be lending support from the background. Sean had been in this compound long enough to know just how efficient and well-prepared the ACTF was for the battle they were fighting.

He knew that by now the infirmary was a bustling hive of activity; the medical staff preparing for the probable injuries that they would have to deal with when the battle ended. Fighting Zoanoids as an ordinary human, as opposed to as a Guyver, was something that Sean was grateful to never have to do again. But, unlike him, these people had actually been trained for just this kind of thing.

They knew what they were getting into, unlike him when he had first learned about Chronos. But that was in the past, what was important now was getting rid of this group of Zoanoids before they could report the existence of this base to their superiors at Chronos. The last of the ACTF’s frontline corps had filed into the back of an ordinary-looking transport van, and now all that was left was for the five Alpha units and him to fill the next.

Taking a deep breath, Sean prepared himself. "Guyver!"

The Guyver unit’s energy-field crackled around him as the Unit was summoned from its resting place in the other dimension. Their had been a few times, back when nobody had really known all that much about the Guyver, that Sean had transformed in a crowded area. That was how he and the ACTF had first found out about the purely destructive power of the Guyver’s pressure field.

As excess air was expelled from the Guyver’s breather units, Sean jogged the rest of the way to the large transport that held the five Alpha Battlesuits. The rumble of the transport’s overpowered engine was more clearly audible to Sean, thanks to the Guyver’s enhanced senses. But every one of the soldiers knew that they were about to move out. There was no way in hell that they were going to let a bunch of mutant freaks overrun their base.

XxXxX

Drake Shepherd, one of the ACTF’s newly trained ‘ground gunners’, rechecked the ammo gauge on his Zoanoid Buster Cannon. Based off of that Zoanoid Buster Custom that Colonel Atkins had had made for that Murakami guy, this weapon was specifically meant to be used by ordinary people. As opposed to having such a strong recoil that a normal person would break their arm trying to fire it.

The Cannon was fully loaded, like it had been the last five times that Drake had checked. Still, this was his first trial-by-fire against real Zoanoids. This time, he couldn’t count on Barker to bail him out if he got in over his head, and this time there wouldn’t be any reprieves. At least, not until all of the Zoanoids who had come to try and destroy this base were dead.


	60. Engagements

Drake took a deep breath in lieu of checking his ammo reserves again, trying to steady his nerves for the upcoming battle. He wouldn’t be of any use to anyone if he froze up in the middle of the fighting. One of the older, more senior members of the ACTF saw what he was doing.

"The first one’s always the hairiest," the man, Lieutenant Colonel Eric Edwards, said. "Hell, I near-panicked when I first caught sight of one of those ugly freaks. And I didn’t even have the kind of intensive training you got with that Barker guy to fall back on. You’ll do fine, Shep, just keep your mind on what you’re doing and you’ll come out of this with your skin intact."

"Thanks, sir. That helps," Drake smiled with grim good humor.

"I thought it would," Lieutenant Colonel Edwards said.

The harsh rumble of the truck’s engine and the sensation of movement both stopped at the same time, so all of the soldiers knew that it was time for them to get off their asses and start killing some Zoanoids. The doors of the truck unlocked, and were then shoved open by Lieutenant Colonel Edwards.

"ACTF, fall out!"

Drake ran out with the other soldiers, falling into a rough semicircle with the rest of his unit. Out of the corners of his eyes, Drake could see three of the four other ground gunner units doing the same. The headset-radio he was wearing crackled with static as it activated, and Drake knew that the real fighting was just about to start. This was the big moment. _God, I hope I don’t screw this up, _Drake thought as he saw the ranks of Zoanoids just starting to charge. He wasn’t quite sure if that was a prayer or not.

Bringing his Zoanoid Buster Cannon to bear, Drake aimed at the nearest Zoanoid and fired. The horned, green, lizardlike Zoanoid stumbled forward as its head was blown apart down to the shoulders. Just like that, Lieutenant Drake Shepherd claimed his first kill. Instinct and training took over after that, and for Drake the battle became a series of moments.

**Breathe in.**

The cries of another Zoanoid as it attempted to blindside him were cut off as Drake fired a Cannon shell directly into its face. The body disintegrated after the head was gone.

**Breathe out.**

Running soldiers obscured Drake’s view of the battlefield for a moment, and then a mottled-brown Zoanoid with huge shoulders came into his line of fire. Drake took the shot.

**Breathe in.**

Ducking a swipe that would have taken his head off, Drake rewarded his attacker with his second-to-last shell.

**Breathe out.**

The doors of the last remaining transport had opened, and now the Alpha unit and the ACTF’s own Guyver were out and mixing it up with the Zoanoids. Drake was glad to see them in a detached sort of way.

**Breathe in.**

Firing his last shell at an apelike Zoanoid, Drake took a moment to reload while the others covered him. Chambering another round, Drake stepped to the side and fired at another lizardlike Zoanoid that had come up while one of the others was reloading.

**Breathe out.**

Drake could hear someone shouting for a reload, and ran to the place where he saw another of his fellow soldiers kneeling. Handing her one of his spare ammo-packs, Drake watched as Barker dealt a lethal blow with his arm-blades to another ape-Zoanoid.

**Breathe in.**

Another of the lizard-Zoanoids charged at the group of soldiers that Drake had found himself among. Firing another shell, Drake watched his enemy’s midsection explode in a shower of bone and blood.

**Breathe out.**

Two of the Alpha units overtook Drake as he ran, firing at the knot of Zoanoids that had been attempting to brake the defensive lines around the ammo storage truck. Drake smiled coldly, and returned to his lookout duty.

**Breathe in.**

Drake found that he was running, and he took a moment to reorient himself. The cries and screams of dying Zoanoids still echoed around him, so the battle couldn’t have been going that bad.

**Breathe out.**

Drake stood in a line with a group of other ACTF soldiers, shooting at a charging knot of Zoanoids that had managed somehow to get past the Alphas.

**Breathe in.**


	61. Father

Imakarum, carrying the bundle of files that he and his underlings had managed to gather about the ACF – now the ACTF, or Anti Chronos Task Force rather than Anti Chronos Front – made his way back to his quarters. The files, while important in and of themselves, were not as immediate in Imakarum’s mind as seeing his son again. Lord Alkanphel had informed him that Kenji had been released from the processing-tank.

It was odd to think of his son, a person who he had once seen as small and fragile that needed his protection, as a Zoalord. Zoalords were the most powerful beings in existence, after all. But Kenji’s mind was still vulnerable. Someone Kenji’s age couldn’t be expected to have very much in the way of mental defenses, after all. While it was a fact that Kenji had been through some very harrowing experiences in his life, his son was still very young.

Setting the files down on his desk, Imakarum turned and headed for his bed. He could already see a humanoid figure lying on his bed. As Imakarum made his way closer, careful to move quietly so that he wouldn’t wake Kenji since his son would need a lot of rest to adapt to the changes that his body had gone through, he caught his first glimpse of Kenji’s human face.

"Miaka," Imakarum breathed.

The angles of the face, the high cheekbones, the shape of the chin, it was all hers. The only thing to really differentiate Kenji from Miaka, aside from the obvious of course, was his hair. Kenji’s hair, while not quite as curly as Imakarum’s own, was not straight like Miaka’s. Kenji’s body, though, was obviously modeled on Imakarum’s own.

Kenji was sleeping peacefully, the rising and falling of his son’s chest clearly visible to Imakarum. Imakarum could also hear his son’s steady breathing, and beneath that the reassuring beat of Kenji’s heart. Brushing Kenji’s long fringe away from his eyes, Imakarum smiled as Kenji’s eyelids moved slightly. Gently flicking the tip of Kenji’s nose with his pointer finger, Imakarum chuckled softly as Kenji twitched in his sleep.

Flicking Kenji’s nose again, Imakarum smiled as his son’s eyelids fluttered again. Kenji might have had the body of a fully-grown man, but there was no doubt in Imakarum’s mind that Kenji was still his child. There was a slight feeling of sadness for the fact that he would never get to watch Kenji grow up, but overshadowing that was the satisfaction of knowing that his son was safe. Finally and ultimately _safe_.

There were few things in this world that could harm a Zoalord, and Kenji would also have the full might of Chronos to protect him now. The Zoalords protected their own. There would be no more running; no more having to stay in some broken-down out-of-the way place just so that the two of them would not be found. Kenji would not have a normal life, true, but then Kenji had been denied that very thing almost from the moment that Masaki Murakami had been taken by Chronos.

Besides, Kenji still had his father to help guide him and protect him. As Kenji rolled over on his side, a position that Imakarum knew his son preferred while sleeping, Imakarum remembered something. It would have been a small thing to anyone else, but Imakarum knew that Kenji would appreciate it. Puling the small plush toy, Kaji as Imakarum recalled, out of his sub-dimensional storage space Imakarum lifted the edge of Kenji’s blanket and put the toy within his son’s reach.

Even if there was really nothing practical that he could do for Kenji until his son’s body had further adjusted to the aftermath of his processing, it was still heartwarming for Imakarum to see Kenji almost instinctively curling up with Kaji in his arms. Bending down, Imakarum lightly kissed Kenji on his upturned right cheek. Then he turned and headed for his desk. Even though he would have preferred to wait for Kenji to start waking up, Imakarum knew that his duties to Chronos took precedence.

Settling down with the reports that had been found about the Anti Chronos Task Force, Imakarum was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by a telepathic summons from Lord Alkanphel. Teleporting to the indicated destination, Imakarum was only mildly surprised to find himself back inside the Celestial Hall. All of the other Zoalords were there as well, and Lord Alkanphel was glaring rather harshly at Lord Luggnagg.

"While I do appreciate your show of initiative, Luggnagg," Lord Alkanphel said, sounding as if he would have liked nothing more than to blast Lord Luggnagg through several walls. "An attack of such magnitude is not something to be undertaken lightly."

"Yes," Lord Luggnagg said solicitously, bowing in a manner that came just close enough to mocking to put Imakarum slightly on edge. "I will, of course, endeavor to remember that in the future."

"See that you do," Lord Alkanphel said, his earlier anger no longer in evidence.

"My Lord, if I may?"

"Ask, Shin," Lord Alkanphel said calmly.

"What has Lord Krumeggnik done that his displeased you?"

"Luggnagg had the idea to attack the Anti Chronos Task Force before we had learned more about them," Lord Alkanphel said, seeming only mildly annoyed this time. "Before we had assessed their strengths and weaknesses. And, while I do admit that this was a crude way of doing just that, I would have preferred to have been spared the loss of soldiers."

"Anti Chronos Task Force, my Lord?" Lord Shin asked, evidently confused. "Is there yet another faction of humans arrayed against us?"

"No, Shin," Lord Alkanphel said, seeming mildly amused. "The Anti Chronos Front is now called the Anti Chronos Task Force. Imakarum informed me of these changes a short time ago."


	62. Gathering

"Ah," Lord Shin said, nodding to indicate his understanding. "What was the attack you were speaking of then, Lord Alkanphel?"

"Luggnagg gathered a force of our Zoanoids and sent them out in an attack on the Anti Chronos Task Force’s center of operations," Lord Alkanphel said. "They were soundly defeated by the Anti Chronos Task Force. And while I and Luggnagg now know of the power that the Anti Chronos Task Force possesses, I would have preferred to have this done discreetly."

"Well, my Lord, we all know that discretion is not one of Lord Krumeggnik’s most well-developed traits," Lord Jearvill said, bowing his head solemnly. "No matter how much we might wish it to be otherwise."

"Yes, Jearvill, I know that," Lord Alkanphel said calmly. "Though I would have thought that after all this time he would have at least developed some semblance of such."

"I would have thought so as well," Lord Hamilcal said, casting Lord Luggnagg a disapproving glance.

"Peace, my brothers. Peace," Lord Luggnagg said, raising both hands in a placating gesture. "What truly matters in this affair is that we now know at least some of what this Anti Chronos Task Force is capable of. I would think that that information was worth the loss of a few minor, and of course easily replaceable, soldiers."

"I would have to agree with that assessment, Krumeggnik," Lord Caerleon said. "My Lord, do you intend to inform the rest of us about what this Anti Chronos Task Force is capable of?"

"If I may, my Lord?" Lord Luggnagg asked, and Lord Alkanphel nodded his acquiescence. "I can do better than tell you about them, my brothers. I can show you."

With that statement still hanging in the air, Lord Luggnagg turned to a computer console that was set into the place at the table that he occupied. Like all of the computer stations, the one in front of Lord Luggnagg was meant to control the holographic screen set into the center of the table. The keys purred under his fingers as Lord Luggnagg typed at full Zoalord speed.

"Behold, my brothers, our new enemy."

Imakarum, along with the other Chronos Overlords, watched as the Anti Chronos Task Force engaged the Zoanoids that Lord Luggnagg had sent. It was a rout. And, considering the power of the odd human-shaped and –sized armors that five members of the Anti Chronos Task Force were operating, Imakarum did not find that fact to be very surprising. When Imakarum caught his first glimpse of the Guyver that fought with the Anti Chronos Task Force, he found himself somewhat at a loss.

Imakarum was not the only one.

"How could another Guyver have been found without us knowing about it?" Lord Caerleon wondered aloud.

"The unit in question was discovered in Los Angeles," Imakarum said, remembering what he had found out. "That, at least, was the information that my preliminary investigation of the Anti Chronos Task Force yielded. Time will tell if I am able to find out anything more about this Guyver."

"Then we will leave you to your work, Imakarum," Lord Alkanphel said.

A mental command dismissed the Overlords of Chronos. Back in his room at Cloud Tower once again, Imakarum glanced toward the sleeping form of his son for a minute, before turning and heading back to his desk. His research into the Anti Chronos Task Force, and the matter of that fourth Guyver, would not be kept waiting any longer.


	63. Sean

Their battle won, at least for the time being, Sean and the rest of the ACTF were settling down to a meal and some well-deserved R-and-R. Sean was especially glad to have both the meal and the promise of rest. It had been a harder-fought battle than he was used to, against Zoanoids that Sean hadn’t even known about. None of the Zoanoids that Chronos had ever sent against him had been that strong.

Thankfully, these Zoanoids had been just as stupid as the others that had been sent after him. And now, just to make things that much better, there was the ACTF to back him up. Sean hadn’t ever suspected, when he had first met up with Atkins all those months ago in Utah, that he would ever be joining up with a secret military organization that was dedicated to fighting against Chronos.

Still, it was good to know that he had people who would fight with him when it came down to it. Though Sean had been a lone wolf for a long time, even he had to admit that taking on Chronos was not a job that could be done by just one person. And, now that he had Cori to worry about, Sean was even more grateful to have the ACTF backing him up. Cori wasn’t someone who liked to stay on the sidelines while other people risked their lives.

Staying with the ACTF’s Scientific Division and helping them research Zoanoids gave her a way to feel useful. Not to mention the fact that she was damn good at what she did. Of course, with these new Zoanoid types showing up so suddenly, Cori and the rest of the Scientific Division were going to have their work cut out for them. Probably for a long time, given that they were going to have to do some pretty drastic information-gathering.

Hell, the Tech Division was probably going to end up getting involved as well. Everyone from Atkins on down knew that the ACTF’s Tech Division were the only ones who could get into Chronos’ computer systems with a minimum of fuss. Sean had heard rumors that one of them had even planted a virus in one of Chronos’ mainframes. Even if it _was_ just a rumor, Sean was impressed with people who had the guts to claim to be able to do things like that.

Sean had seen people in the Tech Division do things with computers that he was sure that he’d never be able to do. It there was any set of people who would ever be able to get in and out of Chronos’ computer systems, Sean knew it had to be the ones who worked for the ACTF Tech Division. Finished with his meal, Sean left the table and headed for his room. Cori would no doubt be there waiting for him, and Sean would be happy to see her.

Cori also knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t be in the mood to do much of anything but settle down and doze off. It was a side-benefit of their being together for so long. Stretching as he walked, Sean made his way down the corridor that would lead him to his quarters. ACTF bases were built to be confusing, Atkins had told him, and sure enough it had taken Sean a fair amount of time to get used to the layout of the base.

Thankfully, none of the exits were in any way hard to find. Nor was the armory, or any of the four cafeterias. In fact, the only places that were hard to get into and out of were the Tech Division’s little playground, and the place where the mad scientists of the Development Division hung out and designed all kinds of things for the express purpose of making any Zoanoid who ended up on the business end of them regret getting up in the morning.

If not being created in the first place.

When Sean had that thought, he had to laugh at himself. Zoanoids weren’t the brightest bunch out there, and Sean really didn’t think they had any capacity for regret. Or any kind of thought, really, given the way they all acted. It was kind of strange to think that some Zoanoids could actually manage to pass for human, but then not all of them were made completely by Chronos.

Sean sobered at that thought, remembering Cori’s father again. He had been a Zoanoid, and he’d given his life to protect Cori and Sean from Crane. Thinking of the short-lived Guyver-Zoanoid, Sean shivered. It had nearly been him that died in the cave when it had come down to a battle between Guyver and Guyver-Zoanoid, and Sean didn’t even want to think about what might have happened to him if Cori hadn’t been there.

She had been the one to fire the shot that struck Crane’s already-damaged Control Medal, giving Sean the time he had needed to rip it out of Crane’s unit. Without his Control Medal to regulate it, Crane’s Guyver had reverted to its natural state: a flesh-eating parasite. Sean hadn’t waited for Crane’s unit to finish its meal, instead opting to blast both it and Crane into nonexistence with the Guyver’s massive cannon.

After he had done that, and after his talk with Cori and Atkins, Sean had sent the spaceship that Chronos and he had dug up back to wherever it had come from. He hadn’t wanted either Chronos or the government to have the weapons that were on board. He still didn’t, come to think of it. Even if he knew that the ACTF’s sole purpose was to fight against Chronos and its massive army of Zoanoids, there were still people in the government that Sean wouldn’t trust as far as he could spit.

Atkins was a good person, if a little hard-assed and overbearing at times. Sean didn’t know if the same could be said of the people he served. Sighing, Sean remembered something else that he had done on the day he had killed Crane. After the admittedly spectacular launch of the spaceship, Sean had gone back into what remained of the cave, hunted down Crane’s damaged Control Medal, and stomped on it until the final piece of Crane’s Guyver had been reduced to little more than metallic dust.

It had felt good, cathartic, if maybe a little pointless. Sean still didn’t know why he had been compelled to destroy Crane’s Control Medal like that, but maybe it had just been a crude way of getting one last bit of revenge for all that Crane had done. Yeah, that was probably it. After all, it wasn’t as if Crane’s Control Medal would have made much of an impact on the would if Sean had left it intact.


	64. Subterfuge

Imakarum sat back in his chair, contemplating the new information that he had gleaned from the datafiles on the Anti Chronos Task Force. And on the Fourth Guyver in particular. It was interesting to note that the Fourth Guyver had managed to best a Guyver-enhanced Zoanoid. But then, that particular Zoanoid had been a Lost Unit, and hence weaker and more unreliable than even a Standard Zoanoid.

In fact, now that he had had time to consider the situation more carefully, Imakarum wondered if every Zoanoid that had been created at the Los Angeles branch had been a Lost Number. It would certainly go a long way toward explaining their appalling lack of success when it had come time to deal with the Guyver that had been discovered in their own territory. And it would also explain why all of Lord Alkanphel’s attempts to contact the Los Angeles branch had not been at all successful.

Of course, it was somewhat worrisome that any branch of Chronos would begin developing Lost Numbers with a distinct purpose. The people of Los Angeles had been screened sometime earlier for compatibility with the Zoaformation process. There were indeed enough genetically compatible humans in that area to give the Los Angeles branch of Chronos a steady supply of strong Standard Zoanoids.

There were even a fair amount of humans that would have been ideal candidates for processing into Hyper Zoanoids. That brought up the question of why the Los Angeles branch had not developed any Hyper Zoanoids at all. Imakarum considered this problem, and the troubling questions that it brought up. It was not possible that the overseer for the Los Angeles branch could be so incompetent by mere chance.

As much as Imakarum detested the concept, he had to consider the possibility that the situation had been caused by deliberate sabotage from within the organization. Imakarum knew that there would have to be an investigation, and most likely a purge, since sabotage of this magnitude was not something that could be ignored or forgiven. The one who had started this, whoever they were, would not survive once Chronos found them.

Imakarum was sure of that.

A soft sound, coming from the direction of his bed, distracted Imakarum from his thoughts. Looking over at the bed, Imakarum gently probed his son’s mind. He found that Kenji was thirsty, though by no means was his son ready to awaken. Imakarum was reassured by that at least, since he wasn’t quite sure just how he was going to explain to Kenji what had happened to him.

What Kenji was now, and what his life would be like from this day forward, were not matters that could be taken lightly. Nor was Imakarum going to make the mistake of doing so. He knew Kenji at least well enough to know that nothing short of a full explanation was going to satisfy his son. Kenji deserved at least that much consideration. Rising from his chair, Imakarum strode across the room to stand at his bedside.

Looking down at Kenji for a moment, Imakarum found that his son’s hair was matted. The blankets were also disturbed, twisted around Kenji’s lithe body in such a way that Imakarum knew Kenji had gotten restless. He was settled now, and thankfully had not woken up, but as Imakarum picked up a bottle of water and removed the cap, he wondered just when he would have to speak with Kenji about the changes that they had both gone through.

Imakarum knew that he would have to convince Kenji to support Chronos, preferably completely, before he could risk letting his son out of his room. Otherwise, one of the other Zoalords might take it upon themselves to ‘convince’ him. Imakarum hated the thought of anyone, even Lord Alkanphel, tampering with Kenji’s mind. Aside from that, some of the other Zoalords were not as… gentle with their telepathic abilities as Lord Alkanphel or himself.

Placing the open bottle against his son’s lips, Imakarum gently nudged Kenji’s jaw open. Pouring the water – something that Lord Hamilcal had prepared – into Kenji’s mouth, Imakarum watched as his son instinctively swallowed the liquid that he was being offered to him. The liquid was not water, at least not in the strictest sense of the word. It was purified for one thing, and for another it had been laced with a potent combination of nutrients and sedatives.

Lord Hamilcal had prepared it on Imakarum’s own request. It would keep Kenji well nourished, while at the same time keeping his son safely asleep for whatever length of time that Imakarum decided was best. It was a good plan, and Imakarum had been certain that he had made Lord Hamilcal aware of how grateful he was. Pouring the last of the water into Kenji’s mouth, Imakarum set his now completely asleep son back on his bed.

Looking at the state of Kenji’s hair, though, Imakarum was convinced to do one last thing for his son before he left Kenji to sleep. Quickly teleporting out and retrieving a hairbrush, Imakarum gently slid his hand underneath Kenji’s back and moved his son into a sitting position. Settling Kenji’s forehead into the crook of his neck, Imakarum smoothed his son’s hair back and then began the laborious process of detangling Kenji’s long hair.

After working at the task for thirteen minutes, Imakarum settled Kenji back into bed and put Kaji in his son’s arms. Pulling the blankets up to Kenji’s neck, Imakarum brushed a gentle kiss against his son’s upturned temple. There would be time enough to fully induct Kenji into Chronos’ ranks later, right now Imakarum had more pressing concerns. The matter of the Los Angeles branch would have to be addressed soon.

Hunting down both the traitor within their own ranks, as well as dealing with the Anti Chronos Task Force, were matters that required his complete focus. It was best that Kenji remain safely out of the way for the duration. Teleporting to Lord Alkanphel’s side, Imakarum began to report his findings to his master. Understandably, Lord Alkanphel was not pleased with these new developments.


	65. Mentality

Dr. Hamilcal Balkus was not pleased either, but his displeasure was focused on a far different matter than the internal strife of the Chronos syndicate. Dr. Balkus’ displeasure stemmed from the situation with Imakarum Mirabilis himself. He had not known that Murakami had worked so closely with the precursor to the Anti Chronos Task Force. Knowing that Murakami had received his weapon from a contact within the Anti Chronos Front was disturbing to the ancient Zoalord.

And now, with Imakarum working to investigate the very organization that his former allies had worked to build, there was a chance that their new Twelfth Zoalord would betray Chronos even as Gyou had. Dr. Balkus did not doubt his own work in developing Imakarum, however the fact did remain that the memories of Masaki Murakami were all still present within Imakarum.

It could prove to be a temptation for their Twelfth Zoalord, to go back to his ways as a rebel. Moreover, there was now the matter of his son. A boy raised to fight against Chronos, a boy that had been developed into a Zoalord by that traitor Gyou. The boy could be a great hindrance to Chronos’ plans. But then… Dr. Balkus had to pause as a particularly interesting idea occurred to him.

Perhaps little Kenji Murakami could be of some use after all. Locating the boy’s distinctive mental signature, Dr. Balkus quickly determined that there were no other Zoalords with him. Even Imakarum, who had expressed such a personal interest in the child’s welfare, was nowhere near the boy at the moment. Taking advantage of the circumstances, Dr. Balkus teleported to the boy’s bedside.

He was not particularly surprised to find the boy sleeping in Imakarum’s bed. Placing his right hand over the boy’s Control Zoacrystal, Dr. Balkus concentrated. Feeling the boy’s Zoacrystal begin to resonate in consonance with his own, Dr. Balkus slipped past the child’s nonexistent mental shields and brought his own awareness fully into the boy’s mind. Dr. Balkus found that, for such a young human, Kenji Murakami’s mind was remarkably well organized.

There were very few errant thoughts or musings. Going through the boy’s feelings and desires, Dr. Balkus found that what Kenji Murakami wanted most was to protect and help his father in any way that he was able. That was something that could be useful. Then again, since this particular protectiveness had been directed at Masaki Murakami there was still potential trouble.

Kenji Murakami was both protective of and loyal to Masaki Murakami, and while Imakarum might share some physical traits with that infuriating man they were most definitely _not_ the same person. With as intelligent as Kenji Murakami was, even with his childish naïveté, there was not much chance of the boy mistaking Imakarum for the father he was so devoted to.

Still, there were other ways to ensure the boy’s loyalty. For a moment Dr. Balkus considered suggesting to Alkanphel that they perform the same procedure on Murakami’s son that they had on Murakami himself. It would of course ensure the child’s loyalty beyond all question, and it would perhaps tie Imakarum more tightly to Chronos and Alkanphel as well. The child seemed to mean a great deal to Imakarum, enough that if the child supported Chronos without hesitation then Imakarum would as well.

Finally deciding to shelve that option until Imakarum had either proven himself to be loyal or disloyal, Dr. Balkus decided that he would at least make some kind of contingency plan. The boy’s own mind would be the ideal place to begin. Probing each one of Kenji Murakami’s memories, Dr. Balkus found the ideal combination of elements. There was fear there, a profound fear of isolation.

The boy had gone a long way toward conquering it, yes, but the fear was still present in the back of the boy’s mind. There was also another fear; that of letting his father down. The boy had known what Murakami’s processing had done, what the inevitable results were going to be. Dr. Balkus was again impressed with Kenji Murakami’s practicality. He knew that nothing he could have done would have saved his father, and so he instead resolved to aid him in attacking Chronos.

The young Murakami had even learned to use his harmless outward appearance to his own advantage. There were not many who considered a small boy to be any kind of a threat, after all. Interested now, but not in any way prepared to give up on his original plan, Dr. Balkus began to weave a separate personality together from the useful fragments that he had found within Kenji Murakami’s psyche.

The fear of isolation would ensure that this creation of his would never stray far from any of the Zoalords; the fear of his father’s disappointment was manipulated until it was instead a fear of disappointing Alkanphel. The loyalty of the boy to his father was also transferred to Alkanphel before Dr. Balkus implanted it into the new personality. Recalling the Zoalord name that Alkanphel had given the boy, Dr. Balkus gave the second personality the name.

Finishing up the adjustments to Ingriam’s personality, Dr. Balkus buried the overlay deep in Kenji Murakami’s subconscious mind. Ingriam would be his silent watcher, able to come forward only when Dr. Balkus called on him. Of course, if the situation ever warranted it, Ingriam would perhaps be able to come forward on his own. But that would only be under extreme circumstances, and even then Ingriam would only be dominant for a few moments.

Removing his hand from Kenji Murakami’s Control Zoacrystal, Dr. Balkus withdrew from the child’s mind entirely. Looking down at the sleeping form of Kenji Murakami, Dr. Balkus wondered for a moment what Ingriam’s first report to him would be. One thing was certain, whatever Ingriam Mirabilis said would determine the future of Imakarum Mirabilis.


	66. Regrets

As Imakarum teleported back to his room, he wondered briefly if this was just his day for delivering bad news. First it had been the Anti Chronos Task Force, then the Guyver that worked with them, and only a minute ago he had just finished informing Lord Alkanphel about the sabotage at the Los Angeles branch. Imakarum was only glad that this hectic day was coming swiftly to a close.

Lord Alkanphel had sensed how weary Imakarum was, and so instead of insisting that he stayed and helped to plan Chronos’ next move Lord Alkanphel had let him rest. That was all that Imakarum wanted to do now: rest.

Imakarum knew that the weariness he felt was solely a product of his overworked mind and that his body could work at peak efficiency for at least two more days, but he was only too happy to fall into his bed and sleep. Kenji was still there, and it had really been too long since he had held his son in his arms as they had slept. Removing the visor that covered his changed eyes, another thing that he would have to explain to Kenji, Imakarum placed it on his bedside table.

Stretching, Imakarum began to remove the clothes that he had been given by Lord Alkanphel when he had awakened. The clothes themselves were quickly folded and placed within easy reach. When Imakarum had finished disrobing and dealing with his clothes, he climbed into bed and lay beside his son. Kenji’s back was turned toward him at the moment, but Imakarum reached out and gently rolled Kenji over so that they were facing one another.

Enfolding his son in his arms after much too long, Imakarum was able to fall asleep at last…

The rain made a good cover, keeping most people focused on what was directly in front of them. It was the ideal time to run some errands, at least for a wanted fugitive. This was exactly what Danielle Sorenson, fugitive scientist from the Chronos Corporation, had in mind. To protect her from the heavy rain and to better hide her identity, since both were equally important at the moment, Danielle wore a long black raincoat.

The hood was pulled up over her head, partially obscuring her face while still giving Danielle a fairly good field of view. Her destination, a flower shop, was in sight by this time. Though like most things it was still somewhat obscured by the falling rain. Danielle kept walking.

Once she had reached the door, the ring of the bells startled her out of her thoughts. She noticed that there were no others inside the shop with her, a fact that she was very glad for. Someone who saw her here might be able to identify her if Chronos started asking about her. It wasn’t all that likely, since those bastards all knew that the so-called anti-rebellion virus would kill anyone who didn’t take their daily supply of antidote.

The three of them only had half a month to get this Lost Number processing right.

Purchasing a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, twelve in all, Danielle turned and walked back into the rain. The splattering of little droplets all over her raincoat was the only sound that kept Danielle company as she walked. The weather fit her somber mood perfectly, or maybe it was just her mood that fit the weather. Tucking her hands into the oversized pockets of her raincoat, Danielle kept walking.

Wandering around the city, trying to lose any tail she might have inadvertently picked up, Danielle came back to Prof. Odagiri’s mansion almost as if by accident. Discreetly checking that there was no one behind her, Danielle took out her key and let herself in. Closing and locking the gate behind her, Danielle headed almost unthinkingly toward the plot that they had all set up some time ago.

Staring down at the eleven graves, only eight of which were filled, Danielle brought out the bouquet of roses that she had tucked under her raincoat. The falling water soaked the petals in seconds, but as she began to lay out the roses on the graves in front of her, Danielle found that she didn’t care. She had left the twelfth rose in Prof. Odagiri’s front garden, hoping that his plants would enjoy it even if the Professor wasn’t here to do it himself.

Danielle hoped that Prof. Odagiri was all right, wherever he was now. Danielle had seen him running into the Relic, but after that she had been more absorbed with her own survival than seeing whether or not her mentor and friend had escaped. Danielle knew that, even if Prof. Odagiri had known about that fact, he wouldn’t have blamed her for it. He had been just as human as every one of them, and so he would understand that sometimes the need for personal survival trumped everything else.

Still, Danielle couldn’t help the irrational thought that she could have done something to help somehow if she’s stayed longer. The only thing that a delay would have accomplished was getting her killed. Not that she was really safer like this, but at the very least Danielle knew that she had a better chance of living. Not one hundred percent, not when the Lost Unit processing had such a high chance of failure, but better than many other options.

Danielle hadn’t known of anyone who survived a Chronos interrogation. Pushing open the door of Prof. Odagiri’s private laboratory, Danielle found Howard and Hayami working on the computers. Setting the remaining three roses in a vase by the door, Danielle wordlessly sat down at one of the desks and began rechecking the printouts that her male colleagues had made.

The designs seemed sound enough on paper, but then so had the ones that Emile and Lorne had designed for themselves. Danielle was remembering what had happened to them even as she worked to check over the proposed Lost Number Zoanoids that Howard and Hayami had designed. Pulling her focus back to the present, Danielle banished the faces of her dead fellow scientists from her mind and concentrated on the proposed Lost Unit designs in front of her.


	67. Sleepwalk

The sound of bare feet slapping on the floor would have been inaudible to a human, but then it had been a very long time indeed since Edward Caerleon could be considered a human. He had been asked by both Dr. Balkus and Lord Alkanphel to deal with those scientists who had been discovered as being traitors to Chronos. Edward had been only too happy to deal with them.

It was not for mere humans to defy their masters.

But, now that the interrogation had been concluded, Edward was curious about this new sound. Following the sound, Edward soon found the source of it. He was confused at first, since their new Twelfth Zoalord, Imakarum Mirabilis, did not seem to be one to do things such as wandering the corridors after sundown. Especially when he was wearing a long blue nightshirt and nothing else.

However, as Edward stepped closer, he noticed that there were subtle differences between this new apparition and Lord Alkanphel’s newest follower. The form and tone of the musculature was almost completely identical to their Twelfth Zoalord, but as Edward looked more closely at the man’s facial features, he saw that this was not Imakarum Mirabilis. The body was a nearly identical copy of Imakarum’s, but Edward now saw that the facial features and also the hair were subtly different.

Looking closer, Edward also saw that this man’s eyes were closed. _A somnambulist? How odd._ Edward, knowing that it was better not to wake someone when they were in this state, gently put his hand on the man’s shoulder and steered him back down the corridor the way that he had presumably come. Judging by the man’s resemblance to Imakarum, it was obvious that this man was related to him.

Perhaps a brother? It was strange for Edward to consider, all the more so since he could sense that this man was a Zoalord as well. _It is odd that our lord Alkanphel would not mention the fact that he processed one of Imakarum’s relations. Or even the fact that Imakarum had any relations for that matter._ Then again, Lord Alkanphel was known to be quite secretive st times.

Perhaps he had something particular in mind for Imakarum’s brother.

The sound of someone running down the corridor distracted Edward from his musings about what it was that Lord Alkanphel might have had planed for Imakarum’s brother. Edward wondered just who would be in such an unseemly rush at this time of night. Turning to look down the corridor, Edward saw that Imakarum was the one running toward them. The Twelfth Zoalord of Chronos was radiating worry and apprehension.

However, when Imakarum’s eyes settled on his brother, the feelings of apprehension and worry were replaced with a calm kind of happiness.

"Sleepwalking again, Kenji-chan? I thought we had worked past that."

Imakarum was obviously speaking solely for his own benefit, since he was being careful to keep his voice low enough to not risk awakening this Kenji.

"Your brother?" Edward asked, as Imakarum stepped up to where the man named Kenji was standing.

"My son," Imakarum said fondly, as he lifted Kenji off his feet and cradled the other Zoalord in his arms.

Edward was sufficiently confused by Imakarum’s statement that he did not speak a word as Imakarum turned and walked away. The fact that Kenji had been holding a, rather weathered-looking, plush toy registered with Edward just then. Putting aside his puzzlement with the matter of Imakarum’s brother – or perhaps it was truly his son? – Edward followed Imakarum down the corridor.

The Twelfth Zoalord’s destination became obvious very quickly, and Edward supposed that he should have known it sooner. Imakarum was taking Kenji back to his room. Edward thought that it would not have been very courteous of him to speak at the moment, with Kenji asleep and Imakarum obviously wanting to keep him that way, and so he fell back on his observational skills.

Imakarum was clearly concerned with the welfare of Kenji, more so than it seemed to Edward was necessary, so perhaps Imakarum thought that Kenji was unable to take care of himself. As Edward closed ranks with Imakarum, he could see both the fond smile on the Twelfth Zoalord’s face – directed fully at Kenji – and also the way that Kenji had curled up against Imakarum’s body. This new Zoalord _did_ in fact seem rather childish. It was an odd thing for Edward to consider, the possibility that Lord Alkanphel would ever allow a child to be made into a Zoalord. Though it was also possible that Edward was misreading the situation entirely.

Perhaps Imakarum merely cared for this other Zoalord, this Kenji, as if he were his own son. Perhaps there was not any blood relation between the two of them at all, merely an emotional one. That hypothesis, however, would not account for the rather obvious physical resemblance between the two Zoalords. Edward was fairly certain that Lord Alkanphel would never condone the processing of a child, so the only reasonable conclusion was that Kenji was Imakarum’s brother.

When Imakarum had reached his quarters, Kenji still resting in his arms, Edward stayed outside until the Twelfth Zoalord had entered the room and the door had closed behind him. He was still curious as to what Kenji’s position within Chronos could possibly be, but Edward did indeed know that such things were at Lord Alkanphel’s discretion and not his own. Edward was content to wait.


	68. Gamble

It was time. After all the work that they had done, it was finally time to see if the Lost Unit design that they had finalized was viable. Since Howard was the one with the least time left, he had volunteered. Hayami was just praying that things would go well. As he watched the monitors for the processing-tank that held one of his last close friends, Hayami thought back to Danielle’s condition.

She had just started to complain of steadily worsening headaches, which all of them knew was the first stage of the anti-rebellion virus taking hold. Danielle was currently off making herself more noodles. Hayami had to chuckle at that: here they were, arguably some of the most brilliant geneticists in the world, and they were living on coffee, soda and instant ramen. Like a bunch of stereotypical geeks.

The sheer peculiarity of the situation was enough to make it funny.

When Danielle came back in, holding a cup of steaming ramen noodles with a fork sticking out of it, Hayami couldn’t help but start chuckling again.

"What’s so funny?" Danielle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Hayami said, shaking his head and turning back to the monitor.

"If you say so," Danielle said, shrugging. "How’s Howard doing?"

"He seems to be responding well to the retro-viruses," Hayami said, sobering. "But it really is too soon to tell right now."

"Yeah. I hope it goes well, for our sake as well as his," Danielle said.

Looking at the inert figure suspended in the processing-tank, Hayami added his own silent plea. For all their sakes, he hoped that this would be the time they overcame the odds. Turning back to the monitor, Hayami continued his silent vigil, accompanied only by the soft sound of Danielle eating. He knew why she didn’t take her meal in the mansion’s kitchen, as nice as it was: none of them wanted to be alone anymore.

Even if they couldn’t really do anything for Howard while he was being processed, even if they could only sit and watch the retro-viruses work – or not – the two of them were at least going to be there to lend Howard moral support. Even if he was completely unaware of them being there to do so.

Hayami remembered that he had once been an intensely private person. But that had been before Chronos, before he had been inducted into their ranks of processing techs. Professor Sumio Odagiri had been his mentor, and as time had gone on Hayami had found himself amassing a circle of close friends and casual acquaintances. It hadn’t taken much for Hayami to throw in his lot with Sumio and the others who wanted to fight against Chronos.

Hayami had long since come to the conclusion that, whatever their ultimate goals were, Chronos was evil and needed to be stopped. As his employment with them forced him to do more and more things that he personally found reprehensible, like the processing of unwary people into Sleeper Units, Hayami found himself more and more in accord with Prof. Odagiri and the people who had originally worked with the professor.

Working in Mt. Minakami, and then being transferred into Relics Point, had been both a godsend and a curse. On the one hand, he had been working much more closely with Prof. Odagiri and some of his closer friends, and on the other it had also meant that he’d had to work with the Sleeper Units in Takeshiro. That, however, had only made him more determined to bring Chronos down.

And now here he was, out of Chronos and trying to engineer himself and his remaining friends into Lost Number Zoanoids so that they would be able to escape from both the rule of the Zoalords and Chronos’ anti-rebellion virus. It was so strange how life could take such drastic right turns without even the slightest warning. Hayami sighed, turning back to the computer monitor still recording the progress of Howard’s processing.


	69. Finality

Imakarum, after his encounter with Lord Edward in the hall, had decided that he could not put off the inevitable any longer. Kenji would have to be fully inducted into Chronos. It could, at least, be put off until tomorrow. But not any later than that.

It was not merely a matter of wanting to share his son’s company, though Imakarum did admit to himself that that was a large part of his reasoning, it was the fact that the only other option was to put Kenji into a state of hibernation. Either that, or to… but Imakarum would have never allowed himself to even _consider_ that option. Kenji would join Chronos, Imakarum _would_ convince him, and then the two of them could be a family again.

Settling Kenji comfortably back into his bed, Imakarum disrobed again and climbed back into bed himself, laying on his side facing Kenji. Imakarum knew that he would have to stay more alert this time, since Kenji had obviously fallen back on his old habits, or at least one of them. Burying his fingers in Kenji’s long hair, Imakarum gently rubbed his son’s scalp. Kenji had always enjoyed it when he did that.

Once he felt Kenji relax more fully, Imakarum put his other hand behind his son’s head and gently pushed until Kenji’s forehead rested lightly against his collarbone. Tucking his right arm under his pillow, Imakarum wrapped his left around Kenji’s back. The soft sounds of Kenji’s heartbeat and breathing were enough to lull him back to sleep.

When Imakarum woke up the next morning, he found that Kenji had burrowed deeper into his embrace while they had slept. Kenji’s left cheek was now pressed against his chest, and Imakarum could feel his son’s ankles brushing against his toes. Giving Kenji’s head a few gentle pats, Imakarum pulled away from him, slowly so as not to wake Kenji too soon. There were things that had to be taken care of for Lord Alkanphel before he could take care of Kenji.

Most importantly their plans for dealing with the Los Angeles branch.

Imakarum dressed quickly, plucking his visor off his nightstand and settling it back over his eyes. Leaving the room so that Kenji wouldn’t be disturbed by the action, Imakarum teleported out. Lord Alkanphel was waiting for him in the Celestial Hall, their meeting place of the previous day, and somewhat to Imakarum’s surprise the other Overlords were there as well.

"Imakarum has something to report," Lord Alkanphel said, by way of introduction. "Something that concerns all of us."

All eyes in the room turned to regard him, and Imakarum put all of his distracting thoughts out of his mind. He needed to think about Chronos’ best interests now; what could be done to best protect the organization that they were all a part of.

"I have discovered evidence of a traitor within our organization, most likely the direct overseer for Chronos Los Angeles," Imakarum stated flatly.

The effect was instantaneous, though not as pronounced as it would have been if the Twelve Overlords had still been merely humans. Once the muttering had died down, Lord Shin spoke.

"How is this possible?"

"The predominant breeds of Zoanoid at the Los Angeles branch are Lost Units," Imakarum informed his fellow Lords. "This is why our lord Alkanphel was unable to contact them. As well, it is the only reason that this traitor to our glorious cause has gone undiscovered for so long."

"This is all very disconcerting, my brothers," Lord Luggnagg said. "Perhaps too disconcerting, in fact. How can we be sure that there is not simply a communications breakdown at the Los Angeles branch that has not been resolved as yet?"

"I had thought of that at first myself," Imakarum admitted. "Then Lord Alkanphel informed me that he was unable even to make contact with the Zoanoids in that area. All of you know, of course, that the only breed of Zoanoid that has that particular defect is a Lost Number."

"We know this, Lord Imakarum," Lord Fried’rich stated. "I suppose that Luggnagg was merely surprised that any of our own would betray the organization that we have all worked with such diligence to create."

Imakarum nodded wordlessly. "In any case, I have made several copies of the status reports and breeding manifests from Chronos Los Angeles, in the event that any of you would prefer to recheck my findings."

Four of the Twelve Overlords; Lords Luggnagg, Edward, Shin and Hamilcal, decided that they wanted to review the reports. Imakarum walked over to each of them and handed over the copies he had made of the reports from Chronos Los Angeles. Having a perfectly clear recollection of what those reports contained, Imakarum simply waited for the other Lords to finish their reading.

_ -Masaki, you seem to be rather preoccupied with something.- _

_ -Lord Alkanphel,-  _ Imakarum acknowledged, knowing his master by his distinctive telepathic presence, as well as the fact that no one else would have referred to him by his human name. _-I suppose that my mind is currently focused more on another matter, yes. I do apologize, my Lord, if I distracted you.-_

_ -Not at all, Masaki. I was wondering how Kenji was doing at the moment myself. Your son is a most interesting person, Masaki.- _

_ -Thank you, my Lord.- _


	70. Revelation

When Imakarum was again able to turn his attention back to the other Overlords, he found that they had finished reading the reports. Lord Fried’rich also seemed concerned, since he had presumably read the reports that Lord Shin had been given as well.

"Well, it seems that the Los Angeles branch has become the first to mass-produce Lost Units," the trifle of amusement in Lord Edward’s voice was the only sign of his feelings on the matter. The Sixth Zoalord’s face was completely neutral.

"How could we overlook something this damaging?" Lord Hamilcal demanded furiously. "We were constantly being updated about the progress of the Los Angeles branch, so how could something like this have gone unnoticed?!"

"I am rather more interested in how Imakarum managed to procure these reports," Lord Kaburaal said, giving the Zoalord in question a sidelong glance. "Rather interesting that none of us managed to find anything like them."

"I…" Imakarum began, and then he paused.

_ -Do not tell him anything he does not need to know, Masaki.- _

"I have my sources," Imakarum said instead.

"And what would those sources of yours be, Mirabilis?" Lord Jearvill asked.

Lord Alkanphel held up a hand, silencing all of the Chronos Overlords. "This new development troubles me as well," Lord Alkanphel said calmly. "However, we must not allow these problems to distract us from our ultimate goals. We will deal with them, yes, but we will not permit them to interfere with Chronos’ operations."

"My Lord," Lord Luggnagg said. "I am well aware that this Anti Chronos Task Force is a valid threat to the Chronos syndicate, and believe me when I say that I mean no disrespect to you, but are you certain that these reports that Mirabilis has gathered are valid? We have all seen the official reports from the Los Angeles branch, in fact I am reasonably sure that you have seen them yourself my Lord. So, pardon me my Lord, but why do you put so much stock in these new reports?"

"I have my reasons," Lord Alkanphel said, and left it at that.

Imakarum knew what those reasons were by now of course, and he suspected that Lord Hamilcal knew them as well. It remained to be seen whether the other Lords of Chronos would accept this. Imakarum did not honestly understand why they would not, since after all it was at Lord Alkanphel’s discretion whether he told the other Overlords what was troubling him or not.

_ -Masaki, he’s waking up.- _

_ -My Lord?- _

_ -Your son,-  _ Lord Alkanphel said, sounding faintly amused. _-Kenji is waking up. Don’t you think it’s time we all met him face to face, Masaki?-_

_ -Of course, my Lord.- _

"If you would like to go and fetch him, Imakarum, we will all stay here and wait for you," Lord Alkanphel said aloud.

"As you say, my Lord Alkanphel," Imakarum said, as he stood up and left the table.

Teleporting back to Cloud Tower, Imakarum wondered just how Kenji would react to the Chronos Overlords. And how they would react to him, as well. Walking back down the corridor to his room, Imakarum paused for a moment in front of his door. Then, gathering himself, he opened it and stepped into the room. Everything was just as he had left it, all except for the bed.

Kenji was just starting to sit up, holding Kaji to his chest with one arm and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the opposite hand. Imakarum hurried over to Kenji’s side, just as his son removed the hand from his eyes and yawned. Imakarum settled his own hand on Kenji’s left shoulder, gently rubbing Kenji’s neck with his thumb.

"Morning, dad," Kenji muttered blearily.


	71. Adaptation

Imakarum had to fight very hard to keep himself from staring. He had known, on an intellectual level, at least, that Kenji’s voice would have broken when he was aged in the processing-tank, but hearing his _own_ voice coming out of Kenji’s mouth was something that he had not been at all prepared for.

"Good morning, Kenji-chan," Imakarum said gently as Kenji blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes.

"Where’d you get that new pair of sunglasses, dad?" Kenji asked, staring up at his father’s visor with his newly slitted pupils. "They look really neat."

Feeling somewhat uneasy, Imakarum gently stroked Kenji’s left cheek, but it was only after his son had closed his eyes in pleasure that Imakarum felt comfortable enough to respond. Seeing Kenji with the body of a grown man was one thing, but to see the catlike eyes of a Zoalord staring out of his son’s face… it was just too much to deal with at once.

"A friend gave them to me," he answered, still rubbing Kenji’s cheek and hoping his son would keep his eyes closed for a little while longer.

"That was nice of them." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "have I met them?"

"No." Imakarum lifted his hand and ruffled Kenji’s hair. "But you will as soon as we get you up and dressed."

Taking his son’s hand, Imakarum gently helped him stand for the first time since he had undergone the processing to become a Zoalord.

"Ah!"

"What is it, Kenji?" Imakarum asked, worried.

"The floor’s all cold," he said plaintively, hopping from one foot to the other.

It was such an unexpected answer, yet at the same time so much like Kenji, that Imakarum had to laugh, and it wasn’t all that long before his son joined him. However, the knowledge that Lord Alkanphel was expecting him kept Imakarum from getting too carried away with his mirth. Giving Kenji a quick hug once they had both calmed down, Imakarum turned and led him to his closet.

"I hope your feet aren’t so cold anymore, Kenji," he commented, trying to keep the worry from his voice.

He had by now remembered that Zoalord bodies were not supposed to be vulnerable to environmental threats such as temperature changes and the like—if something had gone wrong with Kenji’s processing, Imakarum wanted to know quickly so that he could correct the problem.

"No, I’m fine now," Kenji said, stretching out his arms above his head and yawning deeply.

"You’re sure?"

"Yeah, I don’t even feel the cold anymore."

Imakarum considered his son’s words even as he stepped up to the closet and opened it. Perhaps it had merely been a case of human reactions overriding Zoalord adaptations, thus making Kenji _think_ that he was cold when he really wasn’t. As Imakarum pulled Kenji’s nightshirt off over his head and helped him into a new shirt of almost the same color, Imakarum decided that that had most likely been the case.

As he helped Kenji to dress himself in his new clothes, Imakarum wondered why his son hadn’t started asking questions yet. He had expected him to be at least a little curious about the fact that he was being given clothes that under any normal circumstances would have been several sizes too big for him, but Kenji seemed to be taking the changes to his body with a truly remarkable amount of equanimity.

Imakarum was well aware that his son was very adaptable, but this kind of drastic change had made even him uneasy—the first thing that Imakarum himself ~~he~~ had done when he had first awakened as a Zoalord, though he hated to even think about it even now, was to attack Lord Alkanphel. He had not done any damage to his master, thankfully, but even after he had apologized and been granted forgiveness, he was still reluctant to discus the subject.

Imakarum hoped fervently that Kenji would not try anything like that, since if he did Imakarum doubted that even _he_ would be able to protect his son from Lord Alkanphel’s fury. But still—this strange acceptance on Kenji’s part was almost as unsettling.

  
"Kenji?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Aren’t you frightened?" Imakarum asked, gently taking hold of Kenji’s wrists so that he could hold the larger, stronger hands up into Kenji’s line of sight. "You’ve… changed a lot, Kenji-chan."

"I know," Kenji answered, looking at his hands.

They were clearly no longer the hands of a six-year-old boy, being instead the powerful, well-developed hands of a twenty-five-year-old man. And not just any man, either, Imakarum knew, but one who would shape the future of the world. Kenji was a Zoalord now, and even though he would never be a part of the Council of Twelve, Imakarum knew that his son would have an important part to play in later events.

"I know I’m different now, dad, but he said that I shouldn’t be scared." Kenji turned back to Imakarum, his blue-green eyes shining with happiness and a wide smile on his face. "He also said that you’d be here to help me adjust." Now he wrapped his arms around his father and leaned his head against his collarbone. "I’m really glad you’re still here, dad."

Imakarum smiled to himself, running his fingers through Kenji’s long hair again. "I’m glad you’re here with me too, Kenji-chan." Imakarum was silent for a moment, thinking about what Kenji had just said. "Who told you not to be afraid?"

"I don’t know his name," Kenji said, sounding only mildly concerned. "But he told me that he knew you."

Imakarum, holding Kenji tighter, decided to just this once see what memories that Kenji had of the person who had told him not to be afraid. Concentrating, Imakarum felt Kenji’s mind open up to him.

_ -Show me…- _


	72. Preparation

_ Kenji, lying curled up among the warmest sheets in the softest bed that he could ever remember having, opened his eyes slowly. The next thing to register in his mind was the hand resting on his forehead; it felt almost as soft as the bed he was sleeping in. _

_ "Dad?" _

_ "No, little one, I am not your father." _

_Turning, Kenji looked up at the person talking to him, but all he could really see_ _was a human-shaped figure surrounded by gold-white light. When the figure lifted him up, cradling Kenji in warm, strong arms, Kenji was even more forcefully reminded of his dad._

_ "I am not your father, little one," the golden being repeated. "However, I do know him. I am sure that he will be happy to know that you are safe." _

_ The glowing skin of the golden man was warm, and Kenji curled up against the man’s chest without a second thought. Then, just as Kenji was about to relax into the arms of the glowing man, he remembered someone else—someone else whose arms had felt warm and comforting. _

_ "Where’s Mr. Gyouoh?" _

_ The man’s eyes, which Kenji now noticed were yellow and slitted like a cat’s, narrowed slightly. _

_ "You don’t need to worry about him, little one," he said, and Kenji thought that the man with the cat eyes sounded angry. Not at him, but still angry about something. "Reholt has been dealt with." _

_ Kenji was just about to start asking more questions about what had happened when the man gently stroked his forehead. The feel of warm fingertips brushing the space between his eyes was strangely comforting, and Kenji found himself closing his eyes, relaxing into the man’s hold and forgetting all of what he had been curious about. Feeling the warmth from the man’s fingers spreading throughout his body and the strange tingle that he had just barely felt coming from that spot on his forehead getting stronger until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, Kenji opened his eyes again. _

_ "What’s happened to me?" _

_ "Something wonderful," the yellow-eyed man said calmly. "Something that very few humans have ever been privileged enough to have happen. Your father will be able to explain it to you more completely, l think. In the meantime, little one, do not be afraid. Your father and I will be here to guide you." _

_ "Dad’s still here?" Kenji was confused. "But, I thought-" _

_ "Shh," the man with yellow eyes put a finger on Kenji’s lips, effectively silencing him. "Your father is perfectly well, little one. Rest now, you are not quite ready to be awakened." _

_ "What do you mean by that?" _

_ "Rest…" _

_ The man with the yellow eyes put his hand on Kenji’s face, covering his eyes, and Kenji felt himself slipping back into the dreamless nothingness he’d been in before… _

Feeling Kenji go slack against him, Imakarum gently stroked his spine. Then, remembering that Lord Alkanphel had requested a meeting with Kenji, Imakarum started looking his son over to make sure he was presentable—after all, the Council of Twelve would be there, as well, and it wouldn’t do to have Kenji appear before them looking as if he had just rolled out bed.

Since Imakarum had helped Kenji dress, he was less concerned with Kenji’s clothes, but he could see clearly that Kenji’s hair needed to be dealt with. Even in spite of the fact that he had brushed it out sometime earlier, Kenji’s mass of ebony tresses looked windblown at best. Laying his hand between Kenji’s shoulders, Imakarum guided his son back to the bed where they had both slept the night before.

As Kenji sat down, Imakarum swept the hairbrush off of his nightstand and began to gently pull it through his son’s hair. Hearing a slight rustling, Imakarum looked down at the bed and saw that Kenji was digging through the blankets, evidently looking for something. Just as Imakarum was about to ask his son what he was so interested in finding, Kenji pulled Kaji out from under the covers.

Imakarum hoped that Kenji wasn’t thinking of trying to take Kaji into the Celestial Hall, since there were few things more likely to offend most of the other Zoalords than having one of their own show up to meet them lugging a stuffed animal, but, even as Imakarum watched, Kenji untied the bright red bandana – Miaka’s bandana – from Kaji’s neck. Satisfied that his son wasn’t about to do anything too childish, Imakarum turned his attention back to Kenji’s hair.

As he moved his hair aside, his father paused in his work to let him finish. Then, smoothing Kenji’s hair back into place, Imakarum finished his own work. Taking his hand once he was done, Imakarum pulled his son back to his feet and turned him around. Looking him over again, Imakarum decided that his son was presentable to the Council now. Seeing the red bandana tied around Kenji’s neck, Imakarum had a sudden, slightly disconcerting feeling of déjà vu. _At least he didn’t tie his hair back with it._

Imakarum shuddered slightly as that thought struck him. That would have been a little too much for even him to handle, almost as if the face of the woman he had loved so much—even after seeing her charred and almost unrecognizable corpse—was coming back to haunt him. Even with the differences between Miaka and their son, looking at Kenji was still almost like looking at her again.

"Is something wrong, Dad? You don’t look so good."

"I’m all right," Imakarum answered, smiling for Kenji’s benefit. "We should get going now—we’re expected."

With those words, Imakarum laid his hand on Kenji’s left shoulder and teleported them both to the doors just outside the Celestial Hall. Thinking that it would be better for all concerned if he and Kenji were to give at least some forewarning before they made their appearance, Imakarum stepped in front and pushed open the doors. All of the other Zoalords were all on their feet now, having presumably been informed of Kenji’s existence by Lord Alkanphel.


	73. Presentation

"So this is the little one that Lord Alkanphel informed us about," Lord Shin stated, looking over Imakarum’s shoulder at Kenji. "What is your name, child?"

Turning slightly, Imakarum took Kenji by the left shoulder and gently guided his son to stand in front of him. Kenji’s shyness among new people in large groups, while endearing in its own way, would not be at all likely to act in his favor with the Council of Twelve.

"My name is Ingriam Mirabilis, sir. Who are you?"

"I am Shin Rubeo Amniculus," he said with his usual calmness, the lights of the Celestial Hall highlighting the Fourth Zoalord’s brown hair.

Imakarum wondered for a moment about the name Kenji had used—it sounded almost like a derivation of his own. Perhaps Lord Alkanphel had already taken the time to give Kenji the name that he would be known by as a Zoalord, as was his right.

"Lord Alkanphel explained to us the circumstances of your transformation, child," Lord Fried’rich stated, looking more closely at Kenji than Lord Shin or any of the others had. "I would like to apologize for that. I assure you that not one of us here would have ever done what the late Commander Gyou did to you."

"Late?" Kenji asked, radiating confusion. "What do you mean late? What happened to him?"

"Gyou was executed for betraying our Lord Alkanphel," Lord Fried’rich explained kindly, the light casting a halo on his silver hair. "I would have expected that your father would have explained it to you, since you were asleep while all of this was happening."

"So Gyou’s dead now?" 

Imakarum could sense that his son looked only for confirmation, not denial. For that matter, he was almost certain that all of the other Zoalords could sense it as well andmade a mental note to instruct Kenji on forming his own mental barrier at the first available opportunity.

_ -Dad, that guy with the beard and that thing on his forehead—is he related to Santa Clause?- _

Even as Imakarum was about to explain to Kenji just who Lord Hamilcal was and what his position within Chronos entailed, he noticed that all of the other Zoalords were staring—at Kenji. The other members of the Twelve Overlords looked as if they did not know how to react, and it was at that moment that Imakarum realized that Kenji had just – completely inadvertently, he was sure – broadcast his question about Lord Hamilcal to the entire Council of Twelve.

Lord Alkanphel seemed to be struggling to contain his reaction, and Imakarum wondered just how severe a reprimand Kenji would get for his insult. It may have been completely innocent, but the fact remained that Kenji had just shown a great deal of disrespect to the Second Zoalord. Then Lord Alkanphel did a most unexpected thing: he started to chuckle.

The rest of the Council, Imakarum himself included, was confused by this seemingly sudden change of moods. They all knew that Lord Alkanphel tended to be capricious in most things, but none of them would have ever thought that the Supreme Zoalord of Chronos would have been so willing to forgive even an unintentional insult to one of his oldest friends and companions.

"I can see that you still have a great deal to learn, little one," Lord Alkanphel said, smiling benevolently at Kenji, his luminous eyes shining. "Your father and I will help you with that, of course."

"Lord Alkanphel?"

"Yes, Edward?" Lord Alkanphel turned to regard the red-haired form of the Sixth Zoalord. "What is it?"

"Are you certain that we can trust this child to aid rather than oppose our glorious cause?" he asked, his liquid green eyes briefly flickering over Kenji. "You yourself informed us of how he was raised by the rebel Masaki Murakami, my Lord. Are you truly certain of his intentions, Lord Alkanphel?"

"Yes, Edward, I am very certain," Chronos’ Supreme Lord stated flatly as Imakarum stepped forward and draped his right arm around Kenji’s shoulders.

"I am not trying to impugn your judgment, my Lord Alkanphel," the Sixth Zoalord said, his long, dark red hair moving slightly as he bowed to indicate his submission to Lord Alkanphel’s will. "Still, I do have my doubts about this young one. This Ingriam, as you have chosen to call him—was he not once Kenji Murakami?"

"Edward…" Lord Alkanphel began, and Imakarum noted there was a slight note of warning in the Supreme Zoalord’s voice.

"I have my doubts about Ingriam, as well."

"Hamilcal?"

"I apologize for speaking out of turn. However, the fact does remain that this child has been fighting against Chronos for most of his life," the white-bearded Lord stated calmly.

"What would you suggest we do then, Hamilcal?" Lord Alkanphel asked, raising one elegant brow.

"I would suggest that we simply look inside the child’s mind. If he has nothing to hide, then he has nothing to fear," Chronos’ Second Zoalord stated flatly.

Imakarum found himself completely unable to argue with the logic of the Second Zoalord’s argument. Anything he said—any way that he tried to keep them from violating Kenji’s mind—would make it appear as if the both of them had something to hide. In the end, Imakarum was forced to cede the argument before it had even started.

_ -Be calm, Masaki. I will see that no harm comes to Kenji.- _

_ -Thank you, Lord Alkanphel.- _

Gently placing his fingers on Kenji’s temples, Imakarum gently massaged his son’s head. It had always served to calm Kenji down in the past, and calmness was exactly what was required at the moment. Even though Kenji’s mental defense was all but nonexistent, there was still the matter of the telepathic contact itself. If Kenji got too frightened, there was a chance that his mind would shut down in self-defense.

Imakarum wanted to minimize the chances of that happening, if not eliminate them outright, so when Kenji tensed slightly, in spite of his father’s efforts to keep him calm, Imakarum opened his own mind to the other Zoalords. If they were going to go through Kenji’s memories, he wanted to make sure that they would not harm his son because of anything they had seen.


	74. Memories

_ Warm arms encircled his small body as he lay in the soft bed, and he tried to relax. Dad had said that this place was safe, after all, but after seeing all those people turning into monsters back at the police station, Kenji couldn’t help wondering if he and his dad would ever be safe anywhere. The house—their old house—had felt safe, but— Kenji cut that thought off before it could really begin. If he though about that, he would start crying, and if he started crying, he would wake Dad up. And Dad needed his rest right now. _

_ Curling up within the circle of his dad’s arms, he made another effort to get to sleep. After he had managed to calm his racing imagination, he finally succeeded… _

XxXxX

_ The air-vent that his dad had told him to stay in wasn’t very comfortable. The metal was cold and hard, and with the vent cover in place he couldn’t see out of it very well. Reaching under the left side of his denim jacket, Kenji felt the handle of the small knife that Dad had given him in case any bastard Zoanoids showed up. It was kind of comforting in a way, the fact that Dad trusted him enough to take care of himself if any of them tried to take him away. _

_ It was the same way he trusted Dad to come back every time he had gone out to hunt those bastard Zoanoids in the first place. The two of them were all the other had, Kenji knew, so they had to trust each other. That was just the way things were. _

_ Moving back farther into the vent, so that if any bastard Zoanoids did show up they would at least have a hard time finding him, Kenji tried to be as quiet as he could. Dad had told him that they had a very good sense of hearing, and he didn’t want to take the chance that any of them would be able to hear him. But then, Dad had also said that their sense of smell was really good, too, which was why he was trying to move as far back into the vent as he could without losing sight of the grate. _

_ He was hoping that the smell of the metal would cover up his own smell if he got far enough, but the crash of something heavy falling startled him, and he went still farther inside the vent so he wouldn’t make any more noise than he had to. Kenji could hear people muttering, but the echoes inside the vent made it almost impossible for him to figure out what the muttering people were actually saying. All that he was really sure of was the fact that the people who had just come into the old hotel with him were all men, about the same age as his dad. _

_ That wasn’t a good thing as far as Kenji was concerned, since Dad had told him that Chronos always went after people when they were about that age. Raising himself up onto his hands and knees while still trying to be as quiet as he could, Kenji started to move farther into the vent, away from the bastard Zoanoids that were coming into the room with him. _

_ When the grate in front of him was suddenly ripped away, Kenji didn’t wait to see what was going to happen. Turning around with surprising speed, even in spite of the confining space inside the vent, Kenji moved away as fast as he could, from the Zoanoid that he knew was on the other side of the now destroyed grate. Moving on all fours wasn’t quite as easy as running, but Kenji managed it. _

_ Right up until the large hand closed around his ankle. Turning around, Kenji bit the hand that held his ankle until the Zoanoid that had been attached to it let go. He ~~Kenji~~ could hear someone cursing violently, and some of the other Zoanoids that had come into the room seemed surprised—Dad had always said that they never expected anyone to fight back, especially anyone as small as him. That was his advantage. _

_ Kenji continued to crawl, almost making it to the part of the vent that turned away from the part where he was. He couldn’t see just what was beyond the sharp right turn, but he hoped it was better than what was currently behind him. When he heard the roars of transforming Zoanoids coming from behind him, Kenji sped up. He could still feel the knife that dad had left him, but he knew that it wouldn’t be much of a defense against what sounded like – at the very least – four Zoanoids, unless he could get at their eyes. Unfortunately, he knew from long experience that something like that wasn’t likely to happen, but when the Zoanoid grabbed hold of the back of his jacket and started to pull him out of the vent, he thought that he might get his chance. Sure enough, when he had been pulled back almost to where he had started, he was able to turn and bury his knife almost up to the handle in the Zoanoid’s vulnerable left eye. _

_ Not stopping to do anything but wipe the blood off the knife the way Dad had always taught him to, Kenji half-crawled half-ran back into the vent. Ducking around the sharp corner, he realized it also led upward. Hurrying, Kenji reached the part of the vent that went straight up… _

XxXxX

_ As he put together another pipe bomb, Kenji looked over his right shoulder for a minute, thinking he’d heard something—something like soft footsteps coming toward him. Remembering what dad had said about some Zoanoids actually being able to be quiet while they were moving, Kenji carefully put down the newly completed bomb on the table and made himself scarce. Washing the chemicals off with a bit of bottled water, he ducked under the room’s only bed. _

_ It wouldn’t provide that much cover, Kenji knew, but it was better than being out in the open where any Zoanoid couldn’t help but find him. As he hid under the bed, curling his small fingers around the handle of the knife, Kenji couldn’t help but feel that he’d forgotten to do something. He forgot all about things like that as the footsteps got louder and he heard the door opening. Someone was in the room with him now, and everything that Dad had told him let Kenji know that this person could be an enemy. _

_ Working to control his breathing, Kenji saw the legs of the person who had come into the room with him, looking like what Dad had been wearing when he’d gone off to scout that new Chronos base that they had found out about. Kenji didn’t know quite what to think about the ACF, since they fought against Chronos like him and Dad but Dad had always seemed kind of sad when he talked about them. _

_ Dad had always said that normal people who fought against Chronos, not including those who were protected, didn’t tend to live very long. Maybe these ACF people didn’t have the right kind of protection, and that was why Dad always seemed sad when he talked about them… _

XxXxX

** Imakarum wondered for a moment just what the other Overlords were thinking about the memories Kenji had formed. It was true that Kenji was loyal, but even Imakarum could not deny that the person that Kenji Murakami was loyal to was his father—his father, Masaki Murakami. It would perhaps be difficult to convince them that the boy would support Chronos after the things that they were seeing… still, it was his duty as a father to support and to protect his son. **

** Getting the other Chronos Overlords to accept Kenji as merely a member of Chronos would be perhaps more difficult now, but Imakarum knew that he would be up to the challenge. For Kenji’s sake, he had to be. **


	75. Firelight

_ Diving under the bed before Mommy could come into his room and catch him, Kenji took out his prize to look at again—he’d never managed to get his hands on Mommy’s pretty red bandanna before, since she had always managed to get it back before he could get to his room and hide. Giggling softly before shushing himself so that she wouldn’t be able to find him so easily, Kenji peeked out from under the edge of the covers that hung off his bed. _

_ Mommy was always telling him to make it. When Kenji would point out that the bed was huge and he was too tiny to make it right, she would just laugh and tell him that he was right. Then she would help him make it, because she was so much bigger. Now he wondered what it would be like to see Mommy without her bandanna—it would be kind of fun to see what she looked like with her hair down for once. When the door to his room slid open, Kenji scooted back almost to the far wall of his room. _

_ He could hear her talking, wondering where he was, and clapped his hands over his mouth so that he wouldn’t give himself away by giggling. In the end, after she had left his room laughing for some reason, Kenji crawled up to the edge of his bed and peeked out. The door was closed, and he was sure that he had seen Mommy walk out about a minute ago, but she could be really tricky about things like that. _

_ Kenji had learned that it was always best to make sure that Mommy was really out of the room before he came out of any hiding place. Looking around, and then crawling to every place under his bed so that he could get a clearer view of his entire room, Kenji found that she really wasn’t anywhere in his room with him. Poking his head out from under his bed, Kenji smiled—maybe he had really won this time. _

_ When the door slid back open, he dove back under the bed fast enough that he made the covers flap. Looking back, he saw that Mommy had come back in—she had probably been waiting just outside his door. He was still happy that he’d managed to get back under the bed before she could come back in and catch him, since Mommy could always buy another bandanna, after all. _

_ Scooting all the way under the bed until his feet touched the wall, Kenji turned and against it. He knew now that no matter how far Mommy reached under his bed she wasn’t going to be able to catch him and pull him out. Kenji giggled as he saw her hands reach under the bed, stopping just short of him, and then disappear again; he giggled louder when she started trying to get him to come out. _

_ First she offered to make him some riceballs, and then a plate of warm brownies. Daddy liked Mommy’s brownies too, Kenji remembered. Maybe when Daddy came home again, she could make him some. Kenji decided to ask her to do that, right after she went away. When she lay down on the floor, grinning at him, Kenji grinned back… _

_ Kenji held up his prize—the bandanna that he had just won—and looked at the spreading fire. It would have been kind of pretty, if it hadn’t been so hot. Mommy seemed to like it, since she was sitting in the middle of a big patch of it. He just wondered why she was crying—if she was happy to be there (and she had to be since she was smiling), then why was she crying? Kenji was confused. _

_ He tried going over, wanting to sit next to her and ask why she was so sad, but the fire was too hot for him. And, when he looked up, Kenji could see her shaking her head at him. Maybe she didn’t want him to come and sit with her, he thought, though he still wondered why she was crying. Maybe the fire made her eyes hurt. Backing away, since the fire was starting to spread across the floor toward him, Kenji looked back up. _

_ Mommy was still crying, but now she looked almost happy. Kenji was more confused now, but as he backed away from the spreading fire, he saw that that was what seemed to make her happiest. Looking up at her face again, he saw that she looked like she was trying to point him somewhere. Turning to look ~~at~~ where her finger was pointing, he saw his bed and ~~Kenji~~ wondered for a minute just why she wanted him to go to bed right then. _

_ But as the fire started spreading across the floor again, Kenji thought that it might be a good idea for him to be as far away from the spread of the fire as he could get and saw her nodding at him from her place in the doorway of his room. Smiling and nodding back, Kenji climbed up onto his bed, pulling up the covers so they wouldn’t catch on fire, too. He yawned—the heat was starting to make him sleepy. _

_ Slumping down on his bed, his fingers still curled around Mommy’s red bandanna, Kenji’s eyes slowly closed. The air smelled funny and hot, and he noticed that it was getting harder to breathe. As his awareness slipped further and further away, he wondered why Mommy was screaming… _

XxXxX

Imakarum pulled out of his son’s mind with the mental equivalent of a sharp snap. He had known, of course, that Kenji had been a witness to the fire that had claimed Miaka Murakami’s life, since he had found the boy near her, but he had never suspected that Kenji had actually been a witness to the last moments of his own mother’s life.

_ I’m sorry, Mi-mi; I didn’t know. _

_ -Masaki, have you forgotten that Miaka had expressed a pronounced dislike for that particular pet name?- _

_ -Lord Alkanphel? Was I projecting again?- _

_ -Only to me, Masaki.- _

_ -I apologize for that, my Lord.- _

_ -No need, Masaki. I think that the others are finished by now.- _

And indeed, when Imakarum looked back at the other members of the Council of Twelve, he found that they were all exhibiting the signs of returning to their own minds after a prolonged bout of telepathic contact. He did not yet know just what the reaction of his fellow Overlords would be—not after all they had seen in Kenji’s mind—but he still hoped that it would be favorable. After all, Kenji would not be joining the Council of Twelve, and the boy still had not the slightest inkling of the full power that he possessed.

Also, the fact remained that Imakarum did not intend to teach Kenji about the power that he had gained, at least not beyond the basic things that he would need to know to survive as a Zoalord.

"It seems that the little one is even weaker than we first thought," Lord Luggnagg said, looking down at Kenji with mild amusement.

Imakarum, after he mentally checked up on Kenji, found that his son had lost consciousness some time ago, probably due to the fact that he was barely used to having one person—himself or Lord Alkanphel—inhabiting his mind. Having eleven of the Twelve Overlords all looking through his mind and memories had obviously been too much for Kenji to handle. Imakarum had been worried about that, but in the end there had not been any viable second option.

"I will be back shortly," Imakarum informed the rest of the Council, concentrating.

Teleporting Kenji back to their shared room, Imakarum removed his son’s shoes and the bandanna before settling him down on top of the bed that they had shared. Setting the shoes down by the table on the left side of their bed, Imakarum set Miaka Murakami’s old bandanna on top. Concentrating again, Imakarum teleported back into the Celestial Hall to await the judgement on his son.


	76. Decisions

Lord Alkanphel nodded to him when he arrived, and when he looked toward the remaining Overlords, he saw that they seemed to have been waiting for him. He nodded to his fellow Zoalords to show that he was prepared to give them his full attention. It was Fried’rich van Purg’stall who spoke first.

"We have considered the matter of your son very carefully, Lord Imakarum," stated the silver-haired Lord, looking kindly at the Twelfth Zoalord, "and we have decided that, after Lord Hamilcal performs a minor operation on your son, he will be allowed to stay here."

"What kind of a minor operation did you have in mind, Doctor?" Imakarum asked, deliberately not using the Second Zoalord’s formal title. Imakarum’s eyes fluttered briefly as the white-bearded Zoalord sent a summary of what he planned to do directly into his mind.

Imakarum supposed that he could understand the necessity of the operation, and it wasn’t as if Kenji had had any real time to acclimate himself to the power of his Zoacrystal. Having it removed and replaced with a less powerful variant was not likely to cause him as much concern as it would have if he had been allowed the extra time to adjust. Imakarum nodded his acquiescence, then teleported back to his son’s side.

He was still asleep, but Imakarum could sense that his son was just about to start waking up, which would doubtless make transporting him somewhat more difficult than it had to be. So he gently insinuated himself into Kenji’s mind and put him back to sleep, making sure he would stay that way until after he was transported to Lord Hamilcal’s laboratory.

Gently removing Kenji from their bed, Imakarum turned and walked out of his room, his son’s sleeping form still cradled in his arms. The walk to Lord Hamilcal’s laboratory in Cloud Tower was not a long one, since they were merely five levels above the processing divisions, and the fact that they were also very close to an elevator was also a good thing in Imakarum’s estimation. Once they were both inside, Imakarum took out his identification card and inserted it into the slot set into the elevator’s control panel.

Teleportation, while a useful skill, took a great amount of concentration, and in situations where the intended destination could be reached through physical means, Imakarum knew that it was better to use them rather than to waste the energy and focus to teleport when it was not necessary. The humming of the elevator’s motor was loud enough to be somewhat irritating, and he only hoped that Kenji wouldn’t be woken up by the noise.

Then again, Kenji was a very deep sleeper once he had actually drifted off, so there was most likely no reason for Imakarum to worry. The elevator doors slid open with a hydraulic pumping sound that Imakarum could have easily done without. Walking out with Kenji still cradled in his arms, Imakarum turned and headed down the hall, turning right when he reached an intersection of three hallways before he looked down at Kenji again.

His son was still comfortably sleeping, and Imakarum gently lifted Kenji up to his face and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Standing in front of the door to Lord Hamilcal’s private laboratory in Cloud Tower, Imakarum input his entry-code and waited for the door to slide open. Once it had, Imakarum stepped inside and looked around, finding Lord Hamilcal standing next to a fluid-filled processing-tank.

Imakarum did not need his telepathic power to know what Lord Hamilcal wanted him to do. Walking over to the unoccupied medical table, Imakarum gently set Kenji down and began to undress him. He could hear Lord Hamilcal moving around in the background, presumably readying his surgical instruments, and was of two minds whether or not to stay with Kenji.

On one hand, Kenji was unconscious, and Imakarum was not particularly eager to watch as Lord Hamilcal cut into his son’s head, but then, Kenji _was_ his son, and therefore it was his duty as a father to stay by his son. In the end, he knew that there was only one decision that he could feel comfortable making, so he stepped forward to take Kenji’s left hand and waited for Lord Hamilcal to begin.

The procedure itself was relatively simple and ended quickly, though it was mildly curious that Lord Hamilcal had chosen to operate when Kenji was in his Zoalord form. Holding Kenji’s clawed hand, Imakarum looked away just as Lord Hamilcal extracted Kenji’s Zoacrystal from his forehead, hearing the clink as it was placed on the tray that Lord Hamilcal had brought over.

Imakarum also thought he heard Kenji whimper softly when his Zoacrystal was finally removed, but that might have been just his overactive imagination, since he had made certain that Kenji would be asleep for the entire procedure. Also, Kenji had not been given the time that he would have needed to fully acclimate to his new power, so there was simply no chance that he had been adversely affected by the surgery that Lord Hamilcal had performed.

Not a _chance_.

Looking back at Kenji, Imakarum saw that Lord Hamilcal had just finished affixing the new Zoacrystal into the formerly vacant slot on his son’s forehead. Sandwiching Kenji’s hand between both of his own, Imakarum watched as Lord Hamilcal checked to make certain that the new Zoacrystal would remain in place during his inevitable reprocessing. Imakarum was not certain if he would be able to remain with Kenji during that time, since there was still the matters of the Los Angeles branch and the Anti Chronos Task Force to be dealt with.

Imakarum knew that his earlier experiences with the humans who had formed the Anti Chronos Task Force would be useful, since Lord Alkanphel would doubtless want to have them destroyed. Still, the fact that the Fourth Guyver was working with the Anti Chronos Task Force was somewhat troubling, since Guyvers were dangerous by their very nature.

The obvious example was Guyver I, of course, and the thought of the First Guyver, drew up a surge of hatred unlike anything Imakarum had ever felt. Sho Fukamachi—the one that had defied Chronos from the beginning—would die by his hands alone. Yes, to protect both his son and Lord Alkanphel, Guyver I could not be allowed to live. Looking back down at Kenji, Imakarum saw that Lord Hamilcal was now ready to begin the reprocessing.


	77. Soldiers

There was a sharp, meaty crack – the sound of someone’s head impacting with someone else’s fist – and another of the scientists who’d been trying to get Zektor to step into the processing-tank went flying backward to smash into the far wall of the lab.

"I told you to piss off, meat sack!"

The bent support beam that he’d been using for a crutch— had been until some of his fellow Hyper Zoanoids had dug him out of the rubble of Mt. Minakami—had since been replaced by a pair of actual crutches. A _pair_, hence Zektor’s being able to use one of them to club a few of the more persistent – or in his view, dumber – doctors in the head. The flat whack of the crutch as it slammed into another doctor’s head made Zektor smirk a bit.

"Zektor, we’re just here to help you."

"I don’t want your fucking help!" the irate Hyper Zoanoid snarled, his baby-blue eyes spitting sparks at his tormentors.

"We just want to fix your leg, Zektor."

"Have any of you fucking dumbshits even _considered_ the fact that I don’t want to have my leg fixed?" Zektor demanded, remembering again just how and why he’d lost his leg in the first place, because it would be an insult to the memory of his team if he got it fixed without finding a way to get back at Aptom.

It would be just like forgetting about them, so until Dr. Balkus – whom Zektor fully believed was searching for a way to deal with that bastard Zoanoid-eater – came up with a way to make him immune to Aptom’s infectious cells, the leg was going to _stay_ off. Not that Zektor was going to try and explain anything to these dumbshits, since all they cared about was getting him back on his feet so they wouldn’t look bad in front of Dr. Balkus.

"I told you pissants to stay the hell away from me!" Zektor snarled as he bludgeoned another of the doctors with his crutch. "Are you all deaf, or just damn stupid?!"

"What’s with all the noise here?" another voice asked, sounding confused.

Zektor turned with a minor amount of difficulty, thinking that the newcomer was yet another idiot doctor who needed some sense pummeled into his empty head. What he saw instead was the brown-haired, impeccably groomed form of Panadyne standing beside him.

"Oh, it’s you," Zektor said, lowering his crutch so that he could stand on it again. "What’re you doing here, Panadyne?"

"I came to find out what all the noise was about," Panadyne said, grinning slightly. "I should have expected it to be you, you old bastard. What’s your beef now?"

Zektor shrugged. "I just have a problem with morons," he said, turning a scathing blue-eyed glare on the scientists gathered around him and warning them off in case any of the dumbshits were going to try and get to him while he was talking.

"Okay. What’s your problem with morons?" Panadyne asked, looking like he was somewhere between curious and confused.

"Aside from the fact that they’re so goddamned _stupid_—" here Zektor turned to glare at the gathered doctors, prompting them to take a few steps back, "—they keep trying to make me do shit that I don’t want to do."

Panadyne glanced down at the pitiful remains of Zektor’s left leg. "Why in the hell would you _not_ want to get your leg fixed? You didn’t strike me as the type who’d stay down any longer than you had to."

"They told you what happened to the rest of my team, right?" Zektor asked warily, not wanting to explain his situation again if he could help it.

"I heard they were all killed," Panadyne said, with the usual amount of distant sympathy. "That was always the risk though, you know."

"You don’t get it," Zektor snapped. "My friends weren’t just killed. They were _eaten_. By _Aptom_."

"Aptom?" The fish-eyed look that Panadyne gave him didn’t make Zektor feel any better about his situation. "Aptom, as in the leader of the Lost Unit screw-ups? Aptom, as in the guy Dr. Balkus wants to personally toss down the incinerator chute once he gets finished ‘examining’ him? That Aptom?"

"Yeah, _that_ Aptom," Zektor spat. "He’s the reason I lost this leg. And until Dr. Balkus finds a way to give me a fighting chance against him, the leg’s going to _stay_ off."

"Your way of remembering?" Panadyne asked, though the tone of his voice suggested that he already knew the answer, or at least suspected.

"That’s about the long and the short of it," Zektor said, nodding.

"Come on, then. Let’s get out of here," the other man offered, putting his right arm around Zektor’s shoulders and helping the other Hyper Zoanoid walk out of the laboratory.

Neither of them looked back.


	78. Integration

As he stood over the sleeping form of the youngest Zoalord in the history of Chronos, Edward Caerleon could not help but puzzle over the events that had led to the boy’s becoming a member of their illustrious organization. Imakarum had not informed the rest of the Divine Twelve about the boy’s origins, and even Lord Alkanphel’s information had left something to be desired, and so Edward saw only one other way to obtain the information that he was interested in. Laying his hand on the child-Zoalord’s right temple, Edward focused his mind.

As he had been expecting, the young one offered no resistance to his mental probing. For that matter, the child-Zoalord did not seem to notice his presence at all. Looking through the memories provided Edward with useful insight into the boy’s thought processes: Ingriam Mirabilis would remain loyal to Chronos and the Divine Twelve for as long as Imakarum remained so.

The child-Zoalord was more loyal to his father than to any of the Overlords or to Chronos itself, which was to be expected, considering that Imakarum—or rather, Masaki Murakami had been the only true constant in the child’s life. However, perhaps there was a way to secure the child-Zoalord’s loyalty to the Divine Twelve. It would certainly prove useful in the event that Imakarum were to try to return to his ways as a rebel.

It was a possibility that had to be taken seriously, however much Edward disliked it. Still, if he could manage to secure the child-Zoalord’s loyalty to Chronos and the Divine Twelve, then Imakarum’s loyalty would be assured as well. With that thought in mind, Edward mentally awakened the child-Zoalord called Ingriam Mirabilis, and as he began to open his eyes, Edward offered the boy his hand.

"Would you be interested in a more in-depth exploration of your father’s workplace, little one?" Edward asked, mentally nudging the child-Zoalord.

"Sure!"

The little one seemed only too eager to accompany him, and Edward noted this—it would make dealing with him all the more simple. As Ingriam made ready to leave his room, pulling on the pair of shoes and socks that Lord Alkanphel had doubtless provided for him, Edward turned slightly to allow the child-Zoalord a modicum of privacy.

"I’m ready—let’s go," the child-Zoalord chirped happily.

Edward turned back, nodding and taking the child-Zoalord’s hand as it was offered to him. It was time to begin.


	79. Shadows

The mountainous, snow-covered terrain stared back at him as Agito Makashima attempted to regain his bearings. He had no real idea how long he had been… indisposed, trapped inside the cocoon that now sat placidly behind him, standing even taller than he did at his full height, even if only just. The reaction from his Guyver’s hyper-sensors pulled Agito from pondering what to do with it.

The one that Fukamachi was doubtless still inside.

Hiding himself with speed born of long experience and aided by the Guyver, Agito decided to wait and see just who had found him and Fukamachi in this isolated place.

"I still can’t believe we were getting readings from _this_ abandoned snow-hole," a voice, obviously male and annoyed, piped up.

"At least you have that nice, shaggy fur coat. It’s not like the cold’s gonna get to _you_ under all that."

"S’not my fault the docs figured you were best suited to be a giant lizard."

Just then, the speakers came into view, and Agito had to bite back an urge to start cursing in several different languages. The foremost figure resembled nothing more than a humanoid snow leopard, even down to the long, twitching tail that hung poised just a few inches off of the ground and helped to balance the creature when it was running at high speeds. A white Chaltu—a Zoanoid.

Walking up beside him was a Gregole, the most common type of Zoanoid in the Japan Section, and it did indeed resemble a large, humanoid reptile of indeterminate species. Once the Zoanoids—there were four of them—had surrounded the cocoon, Agito had a moment to wonder just how one of the brown Chaltu had managed to produce an actual whistle with the mouthful of flesh-ripping teeth that all of its kind were equipped with.

"All right, enough gawking," the white Chaltu—evidently the leader of their group—said. "Dr. Balkus says he wants this for study, and we all know that what Dr. Balkus wants, Dr. Balkus gets."

The other three Zoanoids nodded quickly, and the four of them crouched and lifted the cocoon up to their shoulders.

"What the hell? How many cinderblocks are _in_ this thing?" the Gregole demanded, sounding more annoyed.

"Wuss," one of the brown Chaltu said. "Thing’s not that heavy."

The Gregole’s only response was a stream of incoherent grumbling, and Agito, waiting until the Zoanoids had passed out of earshot, moved away from the large boulder that he had been hiding behind. It would be somewhat troublesome for him to uncover the secrets of that cocoon now that Chronos had managed to lay its hands on it, which was all very aggravating, but the fact remained that those Zoanoids could have very easily called for help.

And Agito had not been in the mood for a confrontation.

There were other, more important things that took precedence in the Dark Guyver’s mind. It would still be possible for someone like him to recover the cocoon from Chronos, even more so than normal, considering the forces he had been gathering. Turning away from the empty area where the cocoon had once stood, Agito activated his gravity controller and flew stealthily away from the frozen mountains.

XxXxX

Perched on top of a fairly high wall, the figure crouching in the shadows sniffed the air for signs of his enemies. His long ears twitched, catching the sound of large creatures coming his way, and their scents confirmed that they were his enemies. Growling, he leapt down from the wall and landed with a silence that belied his size.

The first of his opponents, a Gregole, didn’t even see him coming, but the Gregole’s death alerted the other Zoanoids to his presence, and he knew the battle was about to get harder. Sinking his fangs into a Ramochis’ head, he used his whiplike, bladed tail to slice the throat of another Gregole. The three Zoanoids that he had killed dissolved quickly, leaving their three comrades to face him.

"The hell?! You’re a—" A hand through the Gregole’s throat shut him up.

The two remaining Zoanoids made a brief attempt to escape, but he caught them quickly. Crushing both their skulls in his fists, he lifted his long muzzle and sniffed the air again, hoping that he wouldn’t have to fight any more Zoanoids. This had been a good enough test of his abilities, and there were more important things he had to do back home.

He almost laughed at himself then, thinking of that place as his home. Still, it was the only really place he could stay, especially now, and the fact remained that he had someone waiting for him there. Without looking back at the remains of the Zoanoids he’d fought, he leapt lightly back up onto the wall and disappeared into the darkness.


	80. Enemies

The blaze of arc-welders and the harsh whine of pneumatic drills filled the ACTF’s construction bay as the contingent of Stryker AFV’s were outfitted with reactive armor. There were eight of them currently in the bay, more arriving sporadically as small percentages of the shipments ordered by the Army were "scrapped" for fabricated defects.

All of the ACTF staff found that pretty funny, and some of them had even started to refer to the various construction bays as "scrap-yards." The name had caught on quickly, even among the superiors. Everyone thought it was entertaining and at the same time appreciated the need for secrecy. If any one of Chronos’ agents found out what they were doing, the best that they could hope for was a quick death.

Being forcibly processed wasn’t something that any of them wanted to consider. To a man, they’d kill themselves first.

On the other side of the bay stood thirty motorcycles, fifteen Kawasaki Ninjas, and fifteen Suzuki Hayabusas being altered for combat purposes. The light Kevlar body armor had already been applied, and now the rear cannon was being added, intended as a deterrent to any of the faster Zoanoids that were now being employed now by Chronos—especially that greenish one with the sword-hands.

Most of the real body armor was being made for those of the newly formed ACTF Mobile Division, which was to be a counterpart to the Armored Division and still essentially in the planning stages. The powered armor was notoriously hard to manufacture, especially since the materials had to be tough enough to go head to head with a Zoanoid and yet light enough that the operators wouldn’t overheat while they were using them.

The vents helped some with that, though.

The blaring of the attack alarms served to remind the soldiers at work in the scrap-yard that they weren’t out of the war zone, they weren’t even that far away from it.

"We’re mobilizing," First Lieutenant Detrik Abernathy said, slightly out of breath from his run to get to Scrap-yard Three. "How many of those things are ready for trial by combat?"

"Five, sir."

"Good; get them out to the launch bay—we’ve got some riders outfitted for them. Are any of the Strykers good to go?"

"Three, but we’re working on the others as fast as we can, sir," Sergeant Karen Mayers said.

XxXxX

Panadyne, standing at the back of a large group of Standard Zoanoids, chuckled as the soon-to-be-dead military losers came charging out of their base towards him and his group.

"You guys can handle the little toy soldiers," Panadyne growled, grinning as much as he could. "I want the Guyver."

The Standards nodded, and as the mass of toy soldiers closed in on them, Panadyne noticed the huge armored truck that was coming along. He knew what the Strykers were for, though they looked a little different than the designs he’d been briefed on, but the truck… Then again, it was probably just carrying troops.

More feed for the meat-grinder.

"All right kids," Panadyne said, hefting one of his long, bony whips and twirling the spiked end a little. "Let’s show these toy soldiers what happens to anyone stupid enough to pick a fight with Chronos!"

The truck and the Strykers were closing in, and that was when Panadyne noticed the motorcycles. Actual fucking _motorcycles_. What the toy soldiers expected to do with those, aside from die horrible flaming deaths, Panadyne didn’t really know. Not like he cared or anything, though.

The first of the Strykers were in range, and a pack of Ramochis had broken off to deal with them. Looking back toward the main group, Panadyne finally saw the one person that he’d been waiting for. Guyver Four was riding into battle on top of the Stryker in the middle of the toy soldiers’ little brigade. _In a hurry to die, you bio-boosted bastard? Well I can help you there!_

Breaking away from the group of Standard Zoanoids, Panadyne made off at a dead run for the Guyver. Some of the toy soldiers were shooting at him and his fellow Zoanoids, but Panadyne knew that bullets were about as effective as toothpicks against their armored skins. And with his and the Gregoles’ soft-tissue under their skin, there was no need for any of them to worry about the little popguns those toy soldiers were hefting, which made it all the more surprising to see one of the Ramochis go down, a hole blown in its neck. The sight of a Gregole’s head being blown into messy chunks didn’t make him feel any better about his situation.

The swipe of a humming blade next to his left ear—close enough to almost take the tip off—reminded Panadyne just why it was a very _bad_ idea to let one’s mind wander during open combat. Turning his attention to Guyver Four and ignoring the screams of the Standard Zoanoids as they got themselves shot, Panadyne ducked another swipe from Guyver Four’s left vibration-blade.

The Guyver fired the laser mounted on his forehead; Panadyne dodged. The Guyver slashed at him with the arm-mounted Vibration Blades; Panadyne ducked and slammed an uppercut into the Guyver’s midsection.

"What’s the matter? I thought your kind was supposed to be tough, Guyver!"

Partly curious and partly wanting to piss the Guyver off, Panadyne waited to hear the Guyver’s response, only occasionally dodging when the Fourth Guyver managed to get an actual shot at him.

"Why the hell won’t you _die_?!"

"I’ve been told that I’m particularly hard to kill," Panadyne laughed, enjoying the snarl of frustration and rage that was all the Fourth Guyver gave him in response.

"I’ve killed hundreds of Zoanoids before you!"

"Yeah, kid, I’ve heard about that," Panadyne said, not needing to work that hard to make himself sound slightly bored. "But there’s the problem with your reasoning: none of the ones _you_ killed were Hyper Zoanoids."

"_Hyper_ Zoanoids?"

"That’s right," Panadyne sang out, chuckling. "I’m a Hyper Zoanoid—Hyper Zoanoid Panadyne, to be precise."

"Panadyne? What kind of name is _that_?! How many Hyper Zoanoids are there?"

"More than you’ll ever get to meet, kid, considering the fact that you’re not going to make it out of this fight alive."

"We’ll just see about that!"

"Yeah, kid. We will."

Shrugging off the Guyver’s punches, Panadyne lashed out with his claws and managed to score several hits on the Guyver. The armor was just as tough as he’d been briefed on, but there was still something missing. Panadyne wondered why this Guyver wasn’t using any of the other weapons that his superiors had told him Guyvers tended to use. Maybe this one was stupid—or else he was too arrogant to see just how outmatched he was.

When a high-speed shell blew a neat hole in his left shoulder—just below and to the right of his nozzle—Panadyne turned to confront the annoying little toy soldier who’d just signed his own death certificate by shooting at a Hyper Zoanoid. What he saw when he turned, though, was a little amusing: it looked like the toy soldiers were trying to give themselves a better chance of taking on Chronos by making themselves into Megadeuses.

"Nice tinman costume; I hope you don’t mind too much if I scuff it up a little!"

Panadyne fired the chemical fluid from the launcher on his left shoulder, then, before the tin soldier could back off or try to do anything about the fluid splattered all over their front, fired again. The two liquids mixed, became explosive, and detonated—all in the space of two blinks. Before any of the other toy soldiers could move to help, Panadyne dashed forward.

Twirling the spiked end of his right tentacle like a rodeo lasso, he threw it hard, and the spike stuck firmly in the toy soldier’s throat. Panadyne had to jump out of the way of the Guyver’s punches, and he didn’t quite know how to respond to the stream of creative insults and threats that the Guyver was screaming at him. It wasn’t like the Guyver could hope to carry any of them out.

Still, some of them sounded extremely painful, as well as physically impossible.


	81. Progeny

The child-Zoalord had been very eager to learn about the inner workings of Chronos, and Edward had found him to be at least reasonably intelligent considering his age. Still, the boy was rather more excitable than Edward would have preferred. Currently, the child-Zoalord was attached to his left arm in the manner of a limpet, which was slightly annoying. However, the fact that they had almost reached the room that Lord Imakarum had claimed for himself did give Edward some hope that he could be free of his present encumbrance.

_ -Lord Edward? So you were the one who took Kenji out of our room. What were you doing with him?- _

_ -I was merely taking him on a tour of this facility. The boy seemed rather interested in the inner workings of the Processing Division. I suspect he will be useful for designing Zoanoid models, if nothing else.- _

Lord Imakarum nodded, striding forward to meet Edward and his companion.

"Well, did you like spending time with Lord Edward, Kenji?"

"Yeah I did, Dad. He’s nice; I like him," the child-Zoalord said happily, finally releasing Edward’s arm.

Scampering over to Lord Imakarum, which Edward personally thought was rather undignified, Ingriam embraced his father tightly. Edward watched as Lord Imakarum stroked the child-Zoalord’s back and petted his hair, then turned away, not interested at all in the interaction between the child-Zoalord and his father. Without looking back, Edward left.

XxXxX

Imakarum stroked Kenji’s hair a last time, then pulled back to softly kiss his son’s forehead. Lord Alkanphel had been informed of the results of Chronos’ first substantive attack on the Anti Chronos Task Force and the Fourth Guyver and had been rather amused that there was a Guyver who could not easily stand against a Hyper Zoanoid. Surprising, yet pleasing at the same time.

Imakarum, as he walked Kenji back to their room, shared this amused pleasure: it would make disposing of this new Guyver that much easier. Imakarum, however, had not been expecting anything better of the Fourth Guyver after learning that he had merely fought Lost Numbers. The useless dregs of Chronos could not ever be expected to give any Guyver a real fight.

"Dad, I don’t want to go back to our room. I’m bored—can we go play?"

"Of course we can, Kenji. What do you want to do?" Imakarum asked, stopping and turning to look at Kenji.

"Could we maybe go outside and play hide-and-seek? We haven’t done that in a while," Kenji said, sounding hopeful as he hugged Imakarum’s arm.

Imakarum considered his son’s request: there was nothing inherently dangerous about allowing Kenji to leave Cloud Tower. Certainly the Fourth Guyver would not be of any consequence so far from his territory. Finally deciding that there was no real reason for him to fear for Kenji’s safety, Imakarum made his choice.

"All right, Kenji-chan—I don’t see why not. Let’s go."

Kenji laughed happily, tugging on Imakarum’s arm as the two of them began to make their way out of Cloud Tower. "Can we go to the woods? It’s always more fun to play in the woods."

Kenji was practically skipping by now, almost casually dragging Imakarum along, and his father let him. Kenji hadn’t been this happy… this _free_ since he was four years old. It was as if his son had somehow managed to forget all of the bad things that had happened to him over the course of his life, and Imakarum found himself marveling at Kenji’s resilience once again. Nothing ever seemed to keep his son down for very long.

"Slow down, Kenji. There’s an easier way to get where we want to go." Imakarum wrapped his arms around Kenji’s waist and teleported them both to a forest.

Since he’d had no real, concrete destination in mind when he’d teleported, Imakarum had ended up at the very place where Kenji’s transformation into the youngest of Chronos’ Zoalords had been instigated, the place where that traitor Reholt Gyou had found him all those months ago. With a quick glance at the remains of the tent where Kenji had stayed for so long, Imakarum swept his son up into his arms and left that region of the forest.

Kenji yelped as Imakarum picked him up, and then once again as Imakarum sped off into the forest. Imakarum had his shield up, since at the speed he was running the wind shear might have injured his son. Imakarum wanted to avoid that, and he also hoped to avoid reminding Kenji of those sad times when he had left him alone in that tent. It was the one thing that Imakarum no longer hated the former Zoalord Gyou for.

The _only_ thing.

Kenji would probably have died if not for the interference of the former Zoalord—even Imakarum’s hatred of the one that he had replaced could not make him deny that truth—but Kenji’s lonely isolation in that tent had ended a long time ago. The last thing that Imakarum wanted to do was remind him of it.


	82. Recreation

Once Imakarum found a clearing—one that was not liberally scattered with the remains of an insect-eaten tent—he stopped. For a moment, as he settled Kenji back on his feet, Imakarum wondered what had happened to his son’s books, then realized that if the heavy canvas of the tent had barely survived the elements intact, then there was no chance that any of Kenji’s books had done so.

Imakarum found that slightly depressing, but the simple fact was that books could be easily replaced. Kenji, however, was unique, and even more so now, considering all the things that had happened to him.

Imakarum, feeling Kenji’s warm breath on his cheek, turned his head to look at his son. Kenji’s eyes were closed and he was leaning against Imakarum’s chest. Imakarum gently patted Kenji’s head and let him rest against his body. Teleportation, especially the first time, could be rather disorienting.

_ -I suppose you’ll want to hide now, Kenji-chan.- _

_ -Oh, right,- _ Kenji said, surprising Imakarum with the fact that his telepathic voice sounded exactly like the one that he’d had before he had emerged from the processing-tank.

But the more Imakarum thought about it, the more ~~that~~ it made sense that Kenji would use that voice. It was the one that he knew, the one that he expected from himself. It would most likely take a great deal of time before Kenji was used to hearing his new voice, and then his telepathic voice would most likely change to match that one. Though, truthfully, Imakarum hoped that that would not happen.

_ -Go and hide, Kenji. I’ll give you to the count of twenty, and then I’ll come and find you.- _

_ -Okay, Dad,-  _ Kenji said, kissing Imakarum on the cheek and then hurrying off, presumably to find a good hiding place.

Imakarum smiled, as he watched Kenji disappear into the forest. Turning around and leaning against the tree that he had ended up standing in front of, Imakarum closed his eyes and started to count.

XxXxX

Kenji moved through the forest almost silently, though to him it sounded like he was stomping over the ground and kicking up bucketfulls of leaves. He didn’t know just how much his own hearing had been enhanced, and so he wondered how he’d managed to mess up something his dad had taught him even though he remembered the lessons so well. It wasn’t like he’d been sleeping long enough to forget something like _that_. Wrinkling his nose in frustration, Kenji tried harder to make his footsteps light and soft the way that Dad had taught him to.

XxXxX

Aptom, figuring that he could take at least a few hours off from watching his prey’s friends and go hunt some tasty Hyper Zoanoids, moved through the forest around what used to be Mt. Minakami. He knew Chronos would probably be trying to conduct at least a few salvage operations, on the off chance that something had survived that little cataclysm. Though, granted, there weren’t many things that could have survived a volcanic eruption.

Still, with Chronos being as paranoid about security as they were, if they weren’t looking for things to salvage, they were probably looking for things to destroy. After all, they’d definitely want to make sure that no one would be able to connect anything that had happened in the area to them. They’d use strength-enhanced Zoanoids for the lifting and carting-away and Hypers for demolishing anything that either couldn’t be carted away or wasn’t worth the trouble but could still be connected to them. Aptom was counting on the Hyper Zoanoids still being there for him to munch on.

Suddenly, Aptom felt a powerful presence moving closer and closer to him. It felt like a Zoalord, so Aptom forgot about the itty-bitty Hyper Zoanoids and started tailing the Zoalord. He could always go back and snack on a few Hyper Zoanoids later, but the opportunity to eat a _Zoalord_ wouldn’t come around all that often. Grinning hungrily, Aptom stalked after the Zoalord he was sensing.

Aptom found him moving softly through the forest, with the manner of someone who was looking for something. He felt about maybe half as strong as Gyou, but that only meant that it would be all the more simple to catch him and eat him. Stalking the little Zoalord proved to be a little bit more difficult than Aptom had originally thought it would be, since the Zoalord didn’t seem to have any real destination in mind.

Still, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t head the Zoalord off somewhere.

Scrabbling up a fairly tall tree, Aptom started leaping from one treetop to the next, pacing the Zoalord through the forest. Every time Aptom leaped, though, the Zoalord’s head would turn, and he would look around as if trying to pinpoint the source of the noises he was hearing. This was how Aptom found out that the guy he was stalking really _was_ a Zoalord; a Zoanoid wouldn’t have been able to hear Aptom.

It was also how Aptom found out that the Zoalord had a nice face—the kind of face that people tended to trust, or at the very least not take any notice of. It was just too bad that he wouldn’t be able to use that particularly adorable face to charm any of the dumber Hyper Zoanoids into going along with him once he’d finished eating the Zoalord. But, then again, maybe after he’d eaten the Zoalord there wouldn’t be any ‘charm’ required.

Aptom grinned at the thought of forcing his meals to go wherever he wanted them to with sheer willpower. That would be _fun_.

Leaping out of the tree he was currently perched in, Aptom landed right in front of the Zoalord. The way the man yelped and jumped back in surprise made Aptom snicker, but then the Zoalord got a definite curious look on his face. Aptom didn’t know quite what to think of that response—it wasn’t one he’d ever gotten before.

"Hi. Um, who are you?" the Zoalord asked, peering more closely at Aptom than any of his meals ever had before.

Of course, most of his meals were scared out of their minds when he showed an interest in them, so certainly none of _them _had expressed any interest in _him_. Well, any beyond running for their lives of course, Aptom thought with a mental snicker. Then again, it might be fun to play with this meal a little before he ate it, because either this little Zoalord was really stupid, or he just hadn’t heard of Aptom before.

Either way, Aptom wasn’t one to pass up a chance to mess with his meal’s head before he ate him.

"Me? I’m just your friendly, neighborhood Aptom." He smirked at the little Zoalord.

"Aptom? That’s a funny name. What are you doing around here?"

"Oh, I just figured I’d visit some of my old buddies from Chronos. What are _you_ doing all the way out here?"

"I’m playing hide-and-seek with my dad. Oh," he interrupted himself, seemingly remembering something, and meanwhile Aptom tried to subtly pick his jaw up out of the crater it had made when it’d hit the ground, dust it off, and stick it back onto his face. "I should really go hide now—Dad’s going to come and find me soon."


	83. Stalker

"Eh, why don’t I show you somewhere to hide," came the offer as Aptom worked to conceal his shock. No Zoanoid he’d ever stalked had ever mentioned family before, and he hadn’t had any reason to think any of the others would be different. Still, eating this guy’s brain would be a good way to learn about him. "I know somewhere."

"Are you sure it’s a good hiding place?"

"Are you kidding me? It’s a _great_ hiding place!" Drawing up what was evidently convincing fake enthusiasm, given that the Zoalord slipped his hand into Aptom’s when the Lost Unit offered it, Aptom grinned as he turned away, thinking, _No one’ll ever find you._

"Great! I bet Dad will really be surprised."

_ Yeah, I bet he will be, _ Aptom chuckled to himself, pulling the Zoalord along. He’d always thought they were supposed to be smart—hell, old Balkus had been a genius, even if he _was _a complete asshole—but Aptom wasn’t going to complain about an easy meal, especially when all of his other attempts to find something to eat had gotten him blasted, mangled, or screamed at.

Of course, he didn’t mind the screaming all _that_ much.

Hunger finally winning out over his desire to not get himself blasted into very small pieces while he was trying to digest his meal, Aptom threw off his leather jacket and dove on the dumb little Zoalord, who didn’t manage so much as a squeak or a yelp before he was enveloped, though he did struggle a lot.

Aptom liked that.

XxXxX

Imakarum, striding through the forest searching for his son, was startled by Kenji’s sudden mental scream. Turning toward the feeling he got of where Kenji was, which Kenji would have more than likely considered cheating had he done it while they were playing their game, Imakarum teleported instantly to his son’s side once he had gotten a clear fix on Kenji’s location.

XxXxX

Aptom could hear shouting, though with his liquid form lacking ears as it did, the _only_ thing he knew was that there was someone shouting. The vibrations were kind of distracting, so they were annoying to have to deal with when he was trying to eat, and for about half a minute Aptom considered reforming his head so he could yell back at whoever the hell it was that was babbling at him.

That was when Aptom felt himself being torn off his intended prey, and then torn apart by what was probably an energy attack. The little Zoalord had probably called one of those tasty Hyper Zoanoids from their post digging through the rubble of Mt. Minakami. Through the link that he still had with his four other clones, Aptom gave them all the information they would need if they wanted to have the little Zoalord for lunch.

He knew they’d want to do it; they were him, after all…

XxXxX

Imakarum, after he had disposed of the last remnants of Aptom, took off his long cape and threw it over Kenji, both to keep his son warm and to sop up at least some of the blood that Kenji was covered in. It looked like Kenji’s skin had been torn open in several places, which unfortunately fit with what he had learned about Aptom’s absorption methods. Holding Kenji close to his chest and offering his son at least _some_ comfort, Imakarum teleported them both back into Cloud Tower.

He knew—intellectually, at least—that he had to be in a fairly pronounced state of shock for him to be operating this calmly while Kenji was unconscious and bleeding all over his cape, that there would be a great deal of running around and panicking involved once he actually, emotionally _realized_ what had just happened, but for now he was thankful to be in shock. It helped him function without breaking down.

That would come later.

He couldn’t really remember contacting Lord Hamilcal for help, but he evidently had, since the Second Zoalord had appeared before him. Imakarum vaguely recognized the fact that he was asking for help, telling him that Kenji had been attacked by Aptom, but all the while felt like he was wrapped up in gauze, like he had taken two large steps back from the world and was now watching it from behind a glass screen.

It was probably for the best.


	84. Healer

It hurt. That was the first thing that Kenji realized: it really, really hurt. The second thing he realized was that he was sitting on a small, grassy hill. That was weird, since somehow the place he was sitting at didn’t really feel real to him. He was confused, both by the fact that he was still hurting and the fact that he could remember his father picking him up and taking him back to Cloud Tower.

"Your mind created this place, child."

Kenji turned, looking over his shoulder at Mr. Balkus.

"What?"

"You are correct in your assessment—this place is _not_ real. It only exists because you feel most comfortable here."

"Oh," Kenji said, turning to stare up at the blue sky that wasn’t really there. "So, where am I?"

"You are currently in the lower levels of Cloud Tower, being treated for severe injuries."

Kenji stood up, brushing the grass off his hands, and walked over to Mr. Balkus. Reaching up to take the old man’s – or wait, Dad had said he was a Zoalord – hand, not wanting to feel so alone, Kenji asked the question that had just come to his mind. "How did I get hurt? And why am I not awake?"

When Kenji looked back up at Mr. Balkus, he saw the old Zoalord looking down at their hands. He almost seemed mad, so Kenji quickly let go and took two small steps back. "Sorry. But, what happened to me?"

"You were attacked."

And that was all Kenji managed to find out, because Mr. Balkus disappeared right after he said that. Sitting back down on the grass that wasn’t really there, Kenji lay down and just stared up at the sky. It was kind of hard to remember that this place wasn’t real, but there was always something just a little off about it that made him remember that he wasn’t really there.

Of course, if Mr. Balkus had been right, then he wasn’t really anywhere, and this place was just someplace he’d made up.

He didn’t know just how long it had been since he’d lain down to rest, but he was starting to get the feeling that he was being watched. Sitting back up, he looked behind him to see who was there and saw Mr. Balkus again, but he was just standing there staring at him. Kenji was confused, but then maybe Mr. Balkus just didn’t like being touched. Or maybe… maybe Mr. Balkus just didn’t like him. Kenji wasn’t sure which.

"You came back?"

"You interest me," Mr. Balkus told him.

"I do?"

"You were never meant to be what you are, and yet you seem to be coping very well with the changes. Not just the physiological, but to a certain extent the mental, as well."

"Um, thank you?"

"That was an observation, child, not a compliment," Mr. Balkus said, sounding bored.

"Um, okay."

Silence fell while Kenji tried to figure out what to say next.

"So, um, how did I get hurt again?"

"I have already told you, child—you were attacked by Aptom."

"Aptom?" He remembered someone named Aptom. Mr. Balkus faded out for a minute, and when he came back, he looked mad. Or, not mad so much as annoyed and disappointed.

"You went willingly with _Aptom_?"

"Dad says I trust people," Kenji said, offering a shrug in his own defense, since he didn’t know what else he could really say.

"You trust entirely too easily, child."

Something that looked like Mr. Gyouoh appeared for about half a second, and Kenji wondered just why he’d thought of that. Or maybe Mr. Balkus did; Kenji wasn’t really sure, but he got the feeling that Mr. Balkus could change things there if he wanted to, since it wasn’t really real, he reminded himself.

"Who’s Aptom, anyway?"

"He was a project of mine—one that went out of its designated parameters. He has no use to Chronos now that he has become something other than a Zoanoid, but as a Lost Number he had very little use to begin with."

"Oh," Kenji said again, still confused. "What does he do?"

"The most that you would be able to comprehend, child, is that Aptom’s metabolic process resemble those of a virus. That is essentially what the Lost Number has become."

"Well, if he’s a virus, then shouldn’t my immune system take care of him on its own?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Balkus asked, turning to look at Kenji curiously.

"Dad taught me about it," Kenji said, shrugging his narrow shoulders, slightly afraid of the way Mr. Balkus was looking at him, even though he didn’t really know why. "Dad said that the immune system is what makes you better when you get sick. And, um, I just thought that, well… never mind," Kenji trailed off timidly.

"What was your idea, child?" Mr. Balkus demanded.

Kenji shivered. "I just thought that if Aptom’s what’s making me so sick, then maybe my immune system might make me better," Kenji said, eyes downcast. "Sorry if it’s a stupid idea."

"Hmmm," Mr. Balkus said, just before he went away again, but when he didn’t come back, Kenji wondered just what he’d done wrong.


	85. Home

The files and reports sitting so innocuously in front of him had long ago ceased to have any meaning for Imakarum; likewise with the remains of many torn up rubber bands that littered his desk. There was a new, whole rubber band in his hands—one that Imakarum suspected was not going to hold up under the strain, just like its brethren.

But Imakarum needed to do this, needed something mindless to keep his hands busy with so that he didn’t rush right down to Lord Hamilcal’s private laboratory and demand to know what was happening to Kenji. He had tried to distract himself with the reports from Chronos’ other branches, then with those from the various scientific divisions within Cloud Tower itself, but both times he’d ended up reading the same sentence six times before he realized that he hadn’t absorbed a word of it.

Nothing had managed to distract Imakarum from the gnawing fear that the next time he went down to Lord Hamilcal’s laboratory, the only thing he would find inside that processing-tank would be another one of Aptom’s many clones.

The rubber band snapped, stinging his fingers slightly as the material lost the battle against his strength. Imakarum hissed slightly. That was it; he’d finally had enough of just sitting around doing nothing when Kenji could be dying down in that processing-tank. Standing, Imakarum sent a brief message to one of the many Zoanoids within Cloud Tower and ordered them to page the janitorial staff and send them to his office.

Then he left, heading back to the elevator with a nearly frantic stride that he only just managed to disguise as purposeful.

When he reached the elevators, he pressed the call button hard enough to almost break it. The Twelfth Zoalord knew that he wasn’t anywhere near the right mental state to attempt teleporting down into Lord Hamilcal’s private laboratory, so he was forced to use the more mundane means of travel that were left to him. He hated the situation, but that was the penalty of using a means of transportation that relied on mental clarity to work.

The elevator ride lasted a subjective eternity, but the fact remained that it wasn’t any longer than the trip Imakarum had taken to bring Kenji down in the first place. Once he had made it back to that lever, he practically jogged to the lab, starting to care less and less what any Zoanoid who saw him thought of his behavior. He could change their opinions very easily, after all.

Imakarum, standing just outside the door to Lord Hamilcal’s laboratory, entered his code and stepped inside almost before the door had opened, his eyes drawn immediately to the processing-tank in the center of the room. Imakarum could see the form within it clearly and, as he drew closer, began to smile. There was his son, whole and healthy, though still for the moment unconscious.

"How is he, Lord Hamilcal?"

"Almost ready to be released, I would say."

Imakarum nodded, then walked over to the processing-tank and pressed his hands against the specially treated Plexiglas. Kenji was safe—that was really all he’d been hoping for when he’d come down into this place. Kenji even looked peaceful, though Imakarum knew from his own experience that awakening inside a processing-tank was both mildly uncomfortable and, to a certain degree, disconcerting, especially for someone who had just gone through the kind of ordeal that Kenji had.

"Has there been any damage to his cells?" Imakarum asked, looking over at Lord Hamilcal.

"There was some mild damage from Aptom’s metabolic processes, but the boy’s immune system is dealing with that as we speak."

"Good," Imakarum said, looking back at Kenji’s sleeping form.

It was easier to think of him that way—asleep, rather than terribly injured and in need of urgent medical care. He hoped that Kenji would be able to recover from this ordeal; his son was very resilient, yes, but this might prove to be too much for even him to deal with. As the fluid in the processing-tank drained slowly out the bottom, letting Kenji come to rest gently against the tank’s bottom, Imakarum stepped back half a pace, watching as the body of the tank retracted into the ceiling. When it had risen high enough that Kenji wouldn’t be able to lean against it the way he had been doing, Imakarum stepped forward and caught Kenji’s sleeping form before his son could slump to the floor, probably hitting his head in the process. His body was still slick with processing fluid, the green-tinged liquid dripping in streams from his hair.

Lord Hamilcal handed him a thick, warm towel, and Imakarum took it gratefully, wrapping Kenji securely in it. Drying his hair with the remainder, Imakarum picked his son up and cradled him the way he had when the boy was still small, though the thick, but otherwise indescribable scent of amniotic fluid still emanated from Kenji’s sleeping form. So Imakarum decided that he would give his son a bath; a nice bubble bath would doubtlessly make Kenji feel—not to mention smell—a great deal better.

_-You have done admirable work as always, Lord Hamilcal.- _Imakarum used telepathy so that he would not disturb Kenji._ -Thank you for taking care of my son.-_

Lord Hamilcal merely nodded in response, so Imakarum turned and left.

Once he was back in the hallways, he quickly walked back to the elevator. Kenji was still sleeping—for the moment, anyway—and Imakarum hoped that his son would remain that way at least until they had reached his room. He knew that his son would be very disoriented if he were to wake up in the corridors, and while reassuring the boy of the fact that he was healthy and safe would be pleasant, Imakarum wanted his son to rest.

Kenji had been through a very frightening and exhausting experience—Imakarum had heard his son’s pained cries as Aptom had attempted to devour him. The Twelfth Zoalord had made his decision: Kenji would stay within the safe haven that was Chronos Japan’s Cloud Tower. He could not allow his son to ever come to that kind of harm again; it caused too much strain for both of them.

Once he had reached his room, Imakarum shifted Kenji’s weight in his arms and pressed his right palm against the scanner. The door to his room slid open with a soft scuffing noise, and the Twelfth Zoalord walked inside. Kenji was starting to stir, moving slightly and scrunching up his face in that cute way that let Imakarum know that his son would be waking up soon. Quickly walking to the private bathroom that only he and Lord Purg’stall were privileged enough to have, Imakarum leaned Kenji against the wall and started to prepare a bath for him.

He knew that Kenji had always liked bubble baths, and so Imakarum had prepared for just such an occasion, as there were now several containers full of scented bubbles in addition to the soap and shampoo in his bathroom cabinet. Imakarum picked out the strawberry-and-vanilla-scented bubble bath, just as Kenji woke up.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Kenji-chan?" Imakarum asked.

"I feel weird; did Aptom really try to eat me?"

Though momentarily startled by Kenji’s bluntness, Imakarum quickly recovered his composure. "He did. Lord Hamilcal told you about him?"

"Yeah," Kenji nodded, pulling the towel up more tightly around himself. "He told me that Aptom was one of his experiments that went wrong. Does he do a lot of experiments like that?"

"No. None that have survived for this long, anyway," Imakarum amended, sticking his hand into the water to test its warmth. "Almost all of the experiments that don’t go as he prefers are disposed of well before they can grow as out of control as Aptom has. The bath’s nice and warm for you, Kenji; you can climb in now."

"Thanks, Dad," Kenji said, kissing Imakarum lightly on the cheek as he climbed into the bathtub and started playing with the bubbles.

Imakarum chuckled as he cupped some water in his hands and started rinsing the processing fluid out of Kenji’s long hair.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yes?"

"How did you get away? You told me you were one of Mr. Balkus’ experiments, so how did you make it out?" Kenji looked at him curiously through a curtain of wet hair that hid half his face.

Not wanting to think about what Masaki Murakami – the enemy of everything Chronos and Lord Alkanphel stood for – had done to be able to escape from the base in Arizona, Imakarum continued to rinse Kenji’s hair in silence, hoping that his son would forget about it, but then Kenji had always been a bit stubborn. They had that in common.

"Dad, I want to know. How did you make it out? You told me Mr. Balkus and all the other Zoalords were all there, so how did-"

Imakarum placed his hand over his son’s mouth, effectively silencing the boy. "Not another word, Kenji," he said sternly, and Kenji nodded.

Imakarum removed his hand, then, deciding that Kenji’s hair was finally wet enough to begin shampooing it, got up and headed back to the cabinet where the soaps and shampoos were stored. Taking out a very specific scented shampoo, Imakarum closed the cabinet again and headed back over to where Kenji was waiting, wet hair plastered to his head.

"Kenji, close your eyes," Imakarum said, squeezing out a good amount of shampoo into the palm of his hand.

Kenji’s blue-green eyes flickered over him, evidently spotting the bottle that Imakarum still had in his hand, because the next thing his son did was squeeze his eyes closed and sit still. Moving the bottle of shampoo off the rim of the tub so there wouldn’t be a chance of it falling in, Imakarum settled himself down next to the bath and began to wash his son’s hair. Kenji sniffed, catching the scent of the shampoo, and Imakarum smiled.

"Orange! Mom used to use this kind of shampoo, didn’t she?"

"Yes, she did," Imakarum said, his fingers covered in lather as he worked the shampoo into Kenji’s hair. "I thought you’d like it."

"Yeah; thanks, Dad."

Imakarum smiled, looking at Kenji again. It was true that they had both changed a great deal from the people that they had once been, though Kenji hadn’t really changed all that much aside from physically, but the fact remained that they were still together—they were still a family. That would be enough.

 

** _End Son of Mine_ **

** _The saga continues in _ ** **The Birth of Guyver V_._**


End file.
